


Rebehold the Stars

by Snowlynx40



Series: Rebehold the Stars [1]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 04, Angst, Canon Divergence - Lucifer (TV) Season 04, Episode: s04e02 Somebody's Been Reading Dante's Inferno, F/M, Hurt Lucifer, Hurt Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) Devil Reveal, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) Needs A Hug, Post-Devil Face Reveal to Chloe Decker, Sad Chloe Decker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:28:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 42
Words: 175,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27100468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowlynx40/pseuds/Snowlynx40
Summary: What if Kinley's poison still managed to find its way into Lucifer that night? Can Lucifer and Chloe learn to trust each other again, or will Lucifer run if he can recover?*** I managed to accidentally delete the original story from Ao3, so I lost the 11.2k hits it had before. 😔***
Relationships: Chloe Decker & Ella Lopez, Chloe Decker & Lucifer Morningstar, Chloe Decker & Trixie Espinoza & Lucifer Morningstar, Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, Ella Lopez & Lucifer Morningstar, Trixie Espinoza & Lucifer Morningstar
Series: Rebehold the Stars [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2024534
Comments: 725
Kudos: 634





	1. It's all True

**Author's Note:**

> I am so very sad right now... I was trying to edit something on this fic with my old phone that has a cracked and somewhat wonky screen, and it deleted my story! I still have the story, but I've lost all of the 11, 212 hits and 402 lovely comments that had been left, and that breaks my heart because many of them were incredibly uplifting. Please know if you left one, or some, that they were greatly appreciated. :(  
>  I have no beta. If you spot mistakes or inconsistencies, please let me know so I can fix or defend them as necessary! Also tag suggestions are welcome, because I'm terrible at it.

“It’s all true.” The words fall unbidden from her lips, and the creature kneeling in front of the body smoothly stands and turns to face her with a gruesome smile.

The realization that had hatched just minutes ago from all the eggs she had collected from her partner over the years had finally fledged, and was now fluttering in her brain, battering the ragged edges of her brain and ricocheting off the inside of her skull with desperate, irregular wingbeats. Its feathers were white. And bloody. She wishes she could just shove the damn thing back in the egg and make an omelet from it.

But now he – _it?_ – is looking at her with eyes of fire and a ruinous parody of her partner’s face, with his beautifully rich voice, that familiarly accented “Detective?” falling from melted lips in that well-known tone of concern. It’s wearing Lucifer’s suit, she can see a blood stained slice on the bicep of its (his?) left arm, bloodless bullet holes in the chest, and blood spray scattered over the rest of it, and she can just barely make out Pierce’s still form on the ground behind him, where it had been crouched as she descended the stairs.

“It’s all true,” she breathes again

“Detective? Are you all right?” It pleads, and her voice catches at the softness of it, she takes a step back as it steps forward and she nearly falls on her ass up the stairs in her hurry to get away.

“Don’t come any closer!” She cries, her voice breaking. A wave of terror washes over her and its craggy brow draws together in a blunted expression of concern, the expression appearing slowly as though being impressed into melted wax.

It takes a step back and its hands fiddle with its cuffs, the way Lucifer always- _Oh, God._

The swirling magma vortex of the hooded eyes flicker down to the hands and she hears the beast inhale deeply.

“Ah,” the beloved voice continues quietly, and when she blinks her partner stands before her, pale and drawn, splattered with blood. “I see that you believe me now.”

She can’t speak, can’t even begin to formulate words as her lips move soundlessly. Her brain is screaming at her to run, but this is a crime scene, and she can’t just leave. Dan and Ella have called for backup, and they should be here any moment…

“Not to worry, I’ll maintain my distance. I can hear sirens, so your backup is on the way, and I daresay they’ll be taking you to hospital to get that bruising taken care of. A bruise like that so close to your heart can’t be something to take lightly.” The voice is subdued, but it’s as though he can’t stop speaking in that way he gets when he’s reasonably sure she’s about to yell at him. “I am sorry, Detective, this… this is not how I had planned to tell you about, well. It hardly matters, I suppose.” This last was muttered under his breath, but it carries to her ears regardless.

“ _‘It hardly matters?!_ ’” she sputters, and he flinches. She stops, stuttering a breath at his sudden movement and flinching back against the stairs herself. His face crumples, but he doesn’t try to come nearer. He turns away, surveying the room and her gaze is finally partially freed to do the same. She keeps him in her sights, curling into herself on the steps, the dull ache at her sternum blooming further now, making it more difficult to pull adequate breath into her chest with her lungs working overtime to keep pace with her racing heart. With his gaze turned away, she can survey the destruction. Pockmarks from hundreds of bullets cover the columns and statuary, the dust hangs heavy in the air and coats her tongue, drying her mouth further. She glances up, then down and notices more holes in the tiles of the floor, and dozens of enormous bloodied feathers, like the ones on the rooftop where he left her. Something tickles her brain, but she can’t reach for it right now, can’t consider anything other than the devil in front of her and how she can get away. She can hear the sirens now, wailing and screaming much like she should be, if she could muster it. It’s not too much longer before unis are flooding the scene and Lucifer’s prediction is correct, they usher her out on a gurney and into an ambulance. The devil keeps his word, he maintains his distance but she spots him glancing at her, keeping tabs. She loses sight of him as they remove her from the loft and wheel her to the ambulance, and she immediately feels better and yet more anxious at the same time.

Dan and Ella visit her room as soon as they’re allowed, full of worry. Dan assures her that Trixie is safe with Linda, and Ella asks which room Lucifer is in so she can check on him.

“He’s… not here,” she manages to say, though her throat constricts around the words. “He was giving his statement when I was wheeled out. He… killed Pierce.”

“Yeah, I know, Martinez told us,” Ella replies slowly, “But… why isn’t he here?”

“Why would he be here?” Chloe squeaks, and this time even Dan looks at her funny. “I mean, he’s got a lot of questions to answer, he won’t be able to break away for hours yet…”

“And when has that ever stopped Lucifer from doing exactly what he wants to do?” Dan asks petulantly. “Not that I’m sorry he’s gone. I’m… I can’t just forget that he didn’t tell us about Pierce, Chloe, I can’t just-“

“Charlotte didn’t tell us about Pierce either, Dan!” Chloe shouts, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to- I just, can we not talk about him right now?” her voice quavers.

“Yeah, sure, okay Decker, that’s fine,” Ella jumps in, uncomfortable with the sudden tension between her two friends. The important thing is, you’re okay, we’re all okay, and nobody has to worry about Pierce anymore.”

“Right. Right.” Chloe nods vehemently, and Ella squeezes her hand. The silence in the room blossoms, and a few minutes later Ella makes an excuse to head home.

Dan watches her go, and turns to Chloe with an angry expression, but Chloe cuts him off.

“I… I’m going to take some time off, Dan. Trixie and I, we’re… we’re gonna take a nice long vacation when they let me out of here, okay? Can you take her until they clear me?”

“Uh.. yeah.” Her change of subject derails whatever tirade he was about to unleash. “Yeah, you’re right, you should take some personal time. Go somewhere nice, yeah?”

“Yes,” she agrees quietly, “Nice, and far.”

Dan leaves to pick up Trix, and Chloe is left alone. She lays in the hospital bed, for once not at all eager for her release, content to just lie there and vacillate between terror, fury, despondency, and so many shades of emotions in between.

 _I kissed him. Twice. I let him into my home, let him be around my daughter. I_ trusted _him and he’s been lying this entire time!_

_( **Not lying!** A tiny voice that sounds like Lucifer in her mind tries to interject, **He doesn’t lie… it’s not his fault you wouldn’t believe him.)**_

_No one believes him!_ She snarls silently back at the voice, and it doesn’t say anything further.

The LAPD arrives to take her statement, and she’s shocked that she doesn’t even have to lie. Just.. not mention certain truths. She was shot and knocked out from the impact. Lucifer must have gotten her away somehow, when she woke she was on the roof and she went after her partner. When she found him, Pierce was already dead. She didn’t see the altercation. She didn’t see where the weird bloody feathers came from. No need to mention the craggy-faced beast with the eyes of fire that spoke with her partner’s voice. No need to get herself committed to the psych ward… she wouldn’t be able to escape him if she were locked away.

 _So, that’s how he does it._ Although, even she has to admit, he really had been telling the truth. The entire time. No matter how many times she hadn’t believed him. Which, of course, only angers her further. _What kind of game is he playing? What kind of ridiculously long, pointless plot has he been working this entire time?_

The hospital finally lets her go with instructions to restrict activity, use ice packs as needed, and take ibuprofen for pain.

 _Not a problem_ , she thinks to herself, _my luggage has wheels, no heavy lifting required._

****************************

A week later, she finds herself in a dusty cathedral of a library, lamps dimly flickering, poring through ancient books of lore. She feels guilty for leaving Trixie in the hotel room with the credit card and child-safe pay-per-view, but the hotel door and lock are sturdy, and Trixie is 10 now, old enough to be trusted on her own for a couple of hours with sufficient distractions. Especially with the promise of Paris Disneyland dangled in front of her like a carrot for good behavior while Mommy works.

She’s halfway through a tableful of horrifying manuscripts, full of vulgar imagery of half-flayed corpses, devouring beasts, and demonic orgies when a gentle hand on her shoulder sends her spinning and reaching for the sidearm she isn’t carrying.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” the kind-faced priest backs away, hand out placatingly as he chuckles. “I’m, uh, Father Kinley. Someone said you might need some help with research?”

Chloe stands from the table, laughing nervously at her startlement, placing her hand over the page she’d been looking at. “Yes! Did you hear some crazy lady was asking about the devil?”

“I don’t think you’re crazy at all,” He shakes his head, waving off her disclaimer as he chuckles with her. His face settles into earnestness, “In fact, I think we should talk.”

Kinley steps back, and gestures that Chloe should walk with him. He leads her out of the library and into a courtyard where bells are ringing somewhere nearby, effectively muting their conversation from passing ears. “I work for a division of the church called The International Associate of Exorcists. We deal with demonic possession. People who believe that they have encountered the devil or… to be the devil.” He watches her carefully as she averts her gaze. “We know about Lucifer Morningstar, Ms. Decker. We have been aware of him for about seven years. At first, we thought he was just a benign eccentric, but the more we watched him, the more… terrifyingly authentic he became. And since you’ve traveled all this way to research him, I assume that you agree.”

_Demonic possession… oh my God I didn’t even think of that. Is… did Maze steal that body? Has she been riding some poor human soul like a puppet master for years while I’ve been blithely listening to her bragging about torturing people and thinking she’s just harmlessly… okay, sort-of-harmlessly crazy? My daughter is best friends with a demon and Satan, I am the worst mother ever._

“I… don’t know what to think,” Chloe sidles away from the man, shaking her head at his reasonable words.

“I realize that this must be extremely difficult for you.” He stands in front of her, his voice gentle. “And I want you to know, that I’m here to help.”

Every day for two weeks, Chloe goes back to the library, and every day Kinley meets her, offering his proof, his plan, his poison vial. Every defense Chloe throws at him, he has a counter. He’s so certain, never wavering, always calm, always understanding. Finally, on the last day, she takes the vial.

 _Just because I take it doesn’t mean I have to use it_ , she rationalizes. _It simply means I’m keeping my options open for protecting, well… everyone._

************************

Trixie isn’t sad to leave Rome, despite her new attachment to gelato. She’s not really sure why her mom’s been letting her stay at the hotel for a few hours every day the past few weeks, but she has an idea that it’s something about Lucifer, and she really doesn’t approve of the things she found written in her mom’s notebook. Lots of stuff about bible verses like the ones her abuela makes her recite, and an Adversary, and loads of mean stuff about her friend.

Trixie doesn’t understand why her mom is so sad, and she won’t talk to her about it so she worries silently. Mom also took her phone when they left California, so she can’t even text Maze or Lucifer to talk and cheer her up. She was mad at Maze for a while because she had called her stupid, but she really knew that Maze didn’t mean it. Maze was mad at Daddy for some reason and was just saying stuff she didn’t mean because of that. Trixie understands that, kids at school do it a lot. So, she sulks and orders the most expensive movies on Pay-per-View that she’s allowed to, then doesn’t bother to watch them. Italian pizza is boring for her, not nearly enough cheese and toppings- as far as she’s concerned, it’s mostly bread, and very dry. The hotel smells funny, and even though she understands some of the words people say, she can’t pick out enough of them for anything she hears to make sense. So far, this vacation is a huge disappointment.

She manages to enjoy herself at Disneyland Paris, despite her Mom not really being present. She’s there, walking or strapped into the rides beside her, but every time Trixie tries to share something amazing with her, she responds with a distracted, “That’s great, baby,” and a vague smile before dropping back into a light daze.

The food is better in Paris, mainly the chocolate croissants, but she misses gelato. And home, a lot. The tower is pretty cool, especially when it lights up and stuff at night, but the streets are really crowded and the buildings are all so close together and she can’t understand _anything_ anyone says, even if they _are_ speaking English.

She’s relieved when her mom says they’re leaving for home in the morning and can’t wait to get home. She’s got a mental list of stuff she wants to tell Maze and Lucifer about their trip when they get there.

*************************

When they fly into New York Trixie asks for her phone back.

“Sorry, Trix, I left our phones at home. We couldn’t afford the international roaming fees, even with Grandma’s help on the travel.” Nevermind that Chloe hadn’t wanted Maze to have a way to track them if she chose to. Penelope had been ecstatic that Chloe had finally taken her up on her offer to financially help her take a lavish vacation, and had supplied funds very generously that Chloe had mostly spent on airfare and Trixie’s Disney excursion.

Her mom drops her off at her Dad’s house without even taking her home first, promising to drop off her phone later, once it’s charged. After an enthusiastic greeting, her Dad sends her into her room to gather her laundry from her luggage for the wash, and she leaves the door open so she can overhear their conversation.

“Thanks for not telling him where we were, Dan, I… just needed a break.”

“Hey, you don’t have to thank me, I would have done it anyway, just to watch him squirm,” her Dad’s voice has a nasty edge to it, and her stomach tightens. She doesn’t know who they’re talking about, but hearing that much anger in her Dad’s voice makes her nervous.

“Dan, you shouldn’t- just… just leave him alone, okay? Don’t mess with him, please?” Her mom’s voice is ragged, like it has been since the day she came home and announced their vacation. Like she’s about to cry.

“Did you know he kept coming to crime scenes while you were gone? Every single one. He’d just show up, throw a few jabs, then just leave after 15 minutes or so.” Dad is nearly shouting now, his voice tight with hate. “It’s ridiculous, Chloe, everyone just lets him get away with _everything_! There’s no way he should still have his position as a consultant after doing NO work for an entire month!”

“Well, to be fair, I don’t think his position is actually a paid one-“

“What?” Trixie giggles quietly as her Dad’s voice actually squeaks. “Are you telling me he’s been doing this all along for… for _free_? Just because he feels like it?”

“He always told me that he just didn’t need the money.” Trixie can practically hear her mother shrug, though her voice still sounds dead. “But anyway, I do appreciate you keeping our trip plans quiet. I’ll see you at work on Monday, yeah? Trix? I’m leaving sweetie.”

“Okay Mom!” She comes out of her room with a bounce and a big smile, like she hadn’t just listened to their conversation from behind her door. “Don’t forget to bring my phone, okay?”

“Okay, baby.”

***********************

When Chloe does bring the phone, Trixie immediately notices some differences. Her social media apps have new controls, and two very prominent numbers are missing. When she asks, her mother tells her that Lucifer and Maze got new phones while they had been in Europe, and that she didn’t have their new numbers yet.

That doesn’t explain why Trixie’s entire chat histories with them have been deleted, or why the photos of them have been removed, but Trixie doesn’t push it… turning the puzzle over and over in her mind. If her Mom won’t talk to her, and her Dad won’t either… how can she find out what’s going on?


	2. Again, and again

Seeing him at the crime scene is… strange. She’s grateful for her acting background, enabling her to cover her panic as she approaches the area where he is talking with Ella.

She’d been late on purpose, hoping that he would already have left and that she could have had one case back before having to face him, but apparently she hadn’t been late enough. The devil is standing in the middle of her crime scene, bold as brass and twice as shiny in his tailored heather grey suit and perfectly styled hair.

As she approaches she catches the faint echoes of their conversation.

“I think it’s time I stop coming to crime scenes.” Lucifer’s voice is sincere and soft, as it often is when addressing either herself or Ella.

“You mean, you’re done showing up, checking to see if Chloe’s here, and then heading out without helping at all?” Ella details sarcastically. Chloe snorts quietly to herself, lingering outside their notice for a moment to listen. Maybe she can still avoid this entire confrontation… she moves closer.

“Yes. I’ve been holding on to a false hope, it seems.” He chuckles, and it sounds sad. “Quite foolish really, that one day she’d just stroll up…” Chloe curses the moment Ella notices her, eyes widening and a huge smile spreading across her face, and sees Lucifer start to turn. Her cover is blown, so she finishes her approach.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” she greets, as though it’s every morning you confront Satan himself.

All right, technically she’s been greeting Satan himself pretty much daily for the past several years, but she didn’t _know_ she was greeting Satan.

 _( **And nothing happened,** reminds that tiny voice that sounds like Lucifer.)_ She ignores it.

“Decker!” Ella exclaimed excitedly, coming in for an enthusiastic hug. “Oh my God!”

“Detective…” Lucifer begins incredulously.

“How was the vacation!? Where did you go?? Why… why are you not more tanned??” Ella lifts her blazer away from her shoulders, as though hoping for some tan lines _somewhere_.

_Yeah.. tan lines are hard to come by when you’re spending the majority of your time in a dimly lit library holed up with a priest planning to abolish the Great Beast from the earthly plane._

“Listen, I’ll catch you up on everything, I promise, but first, what’s happening?” Lucifer hasn’t stopped staring at her with a concerned expression throughout this entire exchange, and he’s even following her as she goes to speak with the grieving widow, still staring as though she were some sort of apparition.

She tries her best to focus solely on the case details, but she finally has to pull him aside. Lying to him is… difficult. Everything about him screams genuine concern for her and self-doubt.

“Are you okay… with me?” his voice pleads for her honesty.

“Well, it’s not like you haven’t always told me the truth, you know?” Finally, a truth. “So… I think deep down, I just… I always knew.” And… perhaps she had. In a way.

“But… how does it make you feel? Do you want to yell at me? Punch me in the face? Run away again?” _Run, definitely run… but I can’t. Because no one is safe while you’re here._

“I… think I just wanna get back to work.”

“That’s all?” His eyes bore into hers, trying to find the secrets she’s struggling to keep under wraps.

“That’s all.” _And right now, my job is keeping close to you… but not so close I get burned._ She turns and approaches the widow again. A moment of silence behind her.

“What the _fuck_?” wafts past her on a breeze, and she manages not to roll her eyes.

She manages to work the case with him in tow, flaunting his otherness at every possible opportunity. Offering up his mojo, talking about experience with torture techniques, lifting the US Marshal above his head against the wall. The terrifying moment where he single-handedly held back an accelerating SUV with nothing more substantial than his bloody grip, a demonic roar, and some bracing from a light pole.

Of course, these moments were disturbingly interspersed with achingly familiar _Lucifer_ moments. Smirking and giggling about the victim’s name (“ _Bob the Knob? What was he in witness protection for, bad porn?”_ ), eating an entire enormous jar of avocado honey evidence with completely innocent innuendo, joking about hoping for more attractive suspects. Trying to draw lines between the widow finding out about her criminal husband and Chloe’s reaction to his identity reveal.

He continues to contribute to solving the case, finding just the evidence required to get Pool Boy to give them information they needed to progress, drawing the fire of the Marshall and then going after him with a predatory grin and keeping him from escaping, exactly as Chloe had instructed him.

She had slipped up badly on the bridge, when he had reached out to touch her shoulder and she had reacted instinctively, pulling away with a terrified gasp, but she thought she had covered it well. He had slumped against the back of the SUV when Reynolds had stopped accelerating and had disappeared without a trace as she was getting the cuffs on him. She had come to Lux afterward and found him, sitting now at the piano in the empty bar, hair wild, struggling to play “Creep” with his damaged hands. It tugs at her heartstrings, and she feels the now-familiar stirrings of guilt as she acts out the first part of Kinley’s plan.

“Lucifer, about… what I saw…”

“I’ve had literal eons to come to terms with what you saw,” he breaks in jaggedly. His dark eyes are glazed with resignation and he takes a shuddering breath. “My… my monstrous side. But it’s _not_ all that I am. At least, I hope not. Either way, it’s unfair of me to expect you to just accept it.” His gaze flickers away from her and back in her direction, not meeting her eyes, “I’m honestly not sure when I’ll be able to. If ever.” He chuckles darkly and reaches desperately for his tumbler of whiskey, taking a steadying sip with a sigh and Chloe’s heart twists with what she’s about to do.

“Lucifer, what I was going to say was, what I saw…” she reaches out on impulse and rests her hand on his injured one. “was my partner.” His dark eyes raise to meet hers and hold this time, and she thinks she can make out hope flaring in their depths.

“Really?” he breathes.

“Really,” she nods, and feels tears of shame cloud her eyes.

“Well, then. Um, problem solved, Detective.” His tone is heavy with relief and he chuckles as he continues, “Because if you can accept me then… that really is all that matters.”

She left soon after, unable to maintain her front with this… this trusting creature so close beside her, willingly handing her the knives she was going to stab him with.

She heads immediately for the church that Kinley had based himself from during his excursion to Los Angeles. Walking slowly up the center aisle of the empty church, she chooses a pew and gazes at the crucified effigy at the altar. She struggles to hold back the sobs that bubble to the surface, but the battle is already lost and she braces her hands on the seat in front of her, leaning her head forward as the tears come and her breath seizes in her chest. She can’t breathe for the contempt and the guilt and the terror, the ever-present suffocation of fear that has followed her since she saw that face, those burning eyes.

How can she reconcile the man she knew, the man she had been rapidly falling in love with, with that… that monster? Which is real, the man that doesn’t lie, or the beast that speaks lies so well they ring like truth?

Her shuddering breaths still as a gentle hand covers hers and a familiar presence settles next to her.

“We knew this part would be difficult, Chloe,” Kinley’s tone is soft, gentle as it always is. “But just remember, what you’re doing is the best thing for everyone on Earth. Including Lucifer.”

She nods and takes a steadying breath, tears still falling. “I know.”

“Are you ready for the next step?” He asks quietly.

She sniffles, stiffens her resolve. “I am,” she declares.

*********************

 _Okay, Decker. You can do this. It only involves leading your best friend into a trap that will result in his permanent banishment from literally the only place left he can go that isn’t Hell._ She sits at her desk worrying her stress ball as she waits to see if Lucifer will respond to her text about the new case. She absently watches Ella skittering around her lab packing her kit in excitement, and nearly jumps out of her skin when her text alert goes off. A thumbs up and a devil emoji. _Nope, not nervous about this at all._

 _“All you need to do is add the contents of the vial to his drink, Chloe_. _” Kinley’s smile was understanding, kindly. “I will handle everything from there when I arrive. I’ll need you to accompany me as the ceremony must be performed in a very special place.”_

_“What kind of place?” Chloe had asked nervously._

_“It must be an extremely unique location: a place of worship, but also a den of sin.” The priest elaborated._

Then Trixie had called, asking when she was coming home because the sitter was saying she needed to leave soon, and the meeting had ended abruptly when Chloe had realized how very late she was. At least she had managed to deflect Maze from coming around…

_The sooner this is over, the sooner you can get back to being Trixie’s mom, Decker. You just have to do it._

She responds to his text with a ‘See you in 20’ just as Ella arrives at her desk, kitted out and practically vibrating with excitement as they head out to Chloe’s cruiser. The forensic technician automatically climbs into the back seat, and proceeds to regale Chloe with all 27 seasons’ worth of antics on The Cabin in the time it takes to travel to Lux. Lucifer exits the building just as she pulls up to the curb, and his face lights up as he spots the car. Her stomach lurches at the undisguised joy in his expression as he slides into the passenger seat with a cheerful greeting for Ella and a warm “Hello, Detective” for her.

The drive to the set of The Cabin takes over an hour, and Ella reads out the case details that she finds in the file, which Lucifer gamely pretends to pay attention to. Chloe plays along, but she’s already read over the file and her mind is far away.

How many times have they been in this car together? This close, just like now, having chats that range from simple case discussion to outright flirtation, from furious “this-is-not-how-we-behave” lectures to light-hearted banter.

 _Was any of it real?_ She’s never caught him in a lie outright, but does that even mean anything? _Clearly I’m not the best judge of character here, my ex-husband was a dirty-cop that gaslit me into thinking I was crazy. My ex-fiancé turned out to be a freaking immortal crime boss – oh, and also **apparently the very first murderer**. And then my partner, my best friend, my… my almost-lover turns out to be the **actual devil** … but at least he’d never lied about that._

“…isn’t that right, Detective?” the lilting voice next to her asks, and she agrees absently. Lucifer snickers next to her, and Ella gives her an incredulous look.

“Oh… what did I just agree to?”

“Not sure you want to know, Decker.” Ella grins, and Chloe lets it drop when Lucifer laughs harder. “Where did you go?”

“Just… thinking about the case. It’s going to be a lot of people to interview, and they’re all going to have their own agendas.”

In a rare alignment of stars, Lucifer seems to be on the same page as she is, though he’s reading a vastly different book. _He_ actually asks _her_ out on a date. Strangely, it was easier to accept his invitation than to make her own. He looks _so_ pleased when she says yes that she can’t help but give him a real smile. She mulls her reaction over as they head back to the station later.

 _Maybe it was easier to accept than to ask because it seems rude to invite someone to their own exorcism? Is it somehow_ less _rude to sedate and banish your partner from Earth if they invite you to the party themselves? Is this really the only course of action?_

She glances over to the passenger seat, where Lucifer is eagerly researching date ideas, Ella chiming in as she watches his phone screen over his shoulder. He keeps throwing her little smiles and occasionally, completely outlandish ideas for their ‘date’ tonight. Chloe responds with little placating words like ‘Maybe next time,’ or ‘How about something a little quieter?’ as she tries to pretend that her internal organs aren’t currently participating in a cage wrestling match. Her head aches from the tension in her jaw and her shoulders feel as though they’re trapped in a vise. _Can I really do this?_

Kinley’s voice echoes in her mind, _“Every day he remains on Earth, people are in danger. Whenever he visits...death and destruction follow.”_

When they arrive at the precinct, Dan is packing up his desk. Lucifer breezes by him, helping Ella carry the footage she had gleefully collected from the crime scene, and Chloe stops to talk. She worries a little at how very antagonistic Dan still is toward Lucifer, and finds herself coming to Lucifer’s defense against Dan again.

“People don’t get shot over stolen pudding, Chloe,” Dan declares flatly.

“Dan...” Chloe cajoles, shaking her head gently, “What happened with Charlotte, it wasn’t Lucifer’s fault.” _Hypocrite. Why bother defending him at all?_

“You know what,” Dan tries a smile, but can only pass off a grimace. “Here’s the deal, Chloe. It was funny at first, and I was charmed just like everyone else around here. But after everything that he kept from us about Pierce… don’t you even wonder what other secrets the guy’s got?” he grabs the box he was packing angrily and paces away from the desk, Chloe following after him.

“Dan, he _did_ try to tell me something was off about Pierce,” she tries a different tack, still wondering to herself why she’s bothering. It’s not like she’s going to need to play peacemaker between the two for much longer…

He whips around so quickly that she flinches away from him, and he rocks back a step, sucking in a deep breath. “No. No, he didn’t. He fed you some whacked-out story about Pierce being a freaking _immortal murderer_ , Chloe. Don’t try to defend him, because you’re _wrong_. He’s got no business being here, he is _not a good person._ ”

Chloe’s throat is tight as he storms away to his new desk, past bumbling McMillan who’s shuttling his own boxes out to Dan’s old desk, taking in the open space around him.

Ella points them toward the villain of the season, and Chloe hares after him, eager to have something, _anything_ else to think about besides her upcoming treachery… Lucifer pulls her back from her rashness more than once, for once injecting reason into her rage- a noticeable reversal of their normal dynamic. Finally, once the camera shuts off, Judd gives them some decent information that results in them needing to interview the entire roster of participants.

During the interviews, Chloe’s patience frays further, and she finds herself reacting to his typical snarky comments as she always has, with a mild elbow to the gut, or grabbing his arm to pull his attention away from an interviewee. She’s probably more disturbed by the fact that these actions _don’t_ disturb her than the fact that they happen at all. _When did I just accept that the devil lets me manhandle him? I just elbowed evil incarnate in the stomach and he’s standing there smirking at me. Shouldn’t I be a smoldering pile of greasy ash by now?_

Shouldn’t anyone that’s annoyed him over the past few years be dead, or strung up on a rack somewhere? Pierce had literally wanted him dead for months, and all he had done to retaliate was try to warn Chloe, and when that didn’t work had accepted the situation until Charlotte had been killed and _Dan_ had found the proof in Charlotte’s files. Dan had probably annoyed Lucifer the most of anyone, and all Lucifer had done to _him_ was lightly annoy him with pranks, stolen pudding cups, and a punch to the face once on a particularly rough day.

Kinley’s voice floats through her consciousness again as the interviews wrap up, _“He’s dangerous, Chloe. He must be returned to Hell.”_

Lucifer escorts the final interviewee out of the cabin and Chloe rests her head against her forearms, bemoaning the fact they’re getting nowhere in their case. He makes a comment about debunking stereotypes and she pounces on the opportunity to ask some questions, which he eagerly agrees to answer. Her questions seem to unsettle him, and she tries not to notice the happiness draining from him at her chosen topics. The questions burn her throat as they erupt from her, and she ruthlessly ignores the hurt and consternation in his eyes as she baldly asks him about biting the heads off children, how many murders he’s been responsible for, and how much he enjoyed torturing people in Hell.

“It was a job, Detective, something I was forced to do.” He corrects her quietly, his dark eyes intense with an emotion she can’t quite place. He shakes his head a little, forces a chuckle. “Gosh. Someone’s been reading Dante’s _Inferno_.”

She brushes off the questioning as just trying to debunk some of the reading she had done on vacation, and he watches her carefully, but doesn’t question her as they go on with the case.

Back at the precinct, she watches Lucifer chatting excitedly with Ella and makes a decision.

_Based solely on the case, of course._

She asks Lucifer to postpone their plans, and he… well, he never has been very good at hiding his emotions. His disappointment flares, but he agrees it’s best to finish the case first. She retreats back to her desk nearly before he can finish speaking and texts Father Kinley to meet her at the lighthouse.

The priest has accurately read her hesitation, and has come prepared with more counters to her observations and questions, all delivered in that same utterly reasonable, soft-spoken voice, complete with constant and intense eye contact, and her blood runs cold as she suddenly recognizes the mannerisms.

 _He’s a fanatic._ She locks her face into a listening expression and she responds on autopilot as her brain and body are suddenly flooded with adrenaline. _Oh God, what have I done? This guy is a radical priest specifically targeting_ my partner _and I’ve not only led him right to him, I’ve given him the key to get to him!_

Crushing guilt swamps her and she struggles to hold her receptive expression in place. _How do I talk him down until I can warn Lucifer? How am I going to warn Lucifer? He’s never going to trust me once I tell him about this.. and he_ shouldn’t _, but I need him to believe me about how dangerous Kinley is…_

She lets indecision infiltrate her voice as she gives her final defense,

“No, no. Lucifer _always_ tells the truth, always. He does not lie.”

“What if this is the biggest lie of all?”

She capitulates, agreeing to reschedule her ‘date’ with Lucifer after the case is complete, and she can feel his suspicious gaze as Kinley watches her leave. She shudders when she gets back to her cruiser, wrapping her arms around herself in a cold embrace before heading home to Trixie, that she left with a sitter _again_.

 _Okay Decker… you went the wrong way on this, now how are you going to get out of the situation without anyone getting hurt?_ _You’ve bought yourself some time, now figure it out while you finish the case. First things first, go take care of Trixie._

******************************

She unlocks the door to her apartment and slips inside. The sitter is perched on one of the stools by the bar, already packed up and ready to go. Chloe checks her phone, _dammit, late again._ Well, that’s gonna stop now.

She apologizes profusely to the sitter, and gives her an extra $30 on top of her overtime fee. She sees her to the door, locks it securely and takes off her blazer and boots, leaving them by the door before going to Trixie’s room to check on her.

The little nightlamp is on, and Trixie is curled on her side, snuffling quietly as she breathes. Chloe slips inside and perches on the side of the bed, lightly brushing back the bedraggled strands of her daughter’s hair that have tossed themselves across her face in her sleep. Her phone is clutched in one hand, and Chloe plucks it from her slack fingers, taking it back into the kitchen to plug into the charging station. She sees a notification from an unknown number and flicks the screen to open it.

**_Srsly? Wrong #_ **

Chloe opens the messaging app and finds a series of messages all sent to familiar-looking numbers, all local, all with just a few words.

**_Is this Lucifer??_ **

While Chloe had been so busy trying to eradicate the devil from Earth, her daughter has been texting dozens of random people trying to talk to him. The numbers are all similar, and pretty close to Lucifer’s actual number that Chloe had deleted from Trixie’s phone (along with Maze’s) when they returned from Rome. Her chest burns as she recalls scrolling through their message threads before deleting them entirely. The last exchange had been the night before they left for Rome, before Chloe had even thought of protecting Trixie’s phone.

**_Lucifer?_ **

**_Yes, Urchin? You know you needn’t start each exchange with just my name, right?_ **

**_I know._ **

**_Well, out with it. What is it you wanted?_ **

**_When can we do game night again? It’s your turn to paint my cheek, and I get to pick the songs for karaoke._ **

**_Nothing would make me happier than to attend another game night, Beatrice, but I think you need to ask your mother. She may have some very good reasons for you not to spend much time with me anymore._ **

**_Now you’re just being silly. You’re family._ **

**_Yes, well. My answer stands. The Detective always has the final decision, Offspring._ **

**_OK I’ll ask. See you soon! ILY!_ **

**_ILY? I don’t understand what that means. Autocorrect?_ **

**_Urchin?_ **

Her eyes start to burn as she blinks back tears. Of course the devil didn’t know what ‘ILY’ means. She should have realized that Trixie would have at least partially recalled his phone number, their history had been a mile long. All the mundane, average things with which a 10-year-old would pester an adult they trusted. And always he would respond. Patiently. With rough affection, and with words rather than emojis, something he only does rarely, and mostly only with his brother, who claims a complete inability to decipher Lucifer’s strings of emojis. Chloe takes the phone and removes the parental block she had placed for Lucifer’s number, adding it back into her contacts and only hesitates a moment before doing the same for Maze’s. She no sooner plugs it back into the charger when the screen lights up with another notification. Chloe smiles, probably another response to the string of queries her tenacious daughter had sent out. She looks at the display and tears she’s managed to hold back finally spill over.

 **_Yes, of course. Did someone change all the names of your contacts, Urchin? Tell me, what did they change mine to?_ ** **_😉_ **

Trixie had guessed his number correctly at some point. Of course she had. Her clever little Monkey. She leaves the notification unread, feeling confident in this decision at least- the first in a long time. She can give Trixie her friends back. And she broadcasts the hope to whoever might be listening that her own actions haven’t burned her bridges with those same friends permanently.

**********************

The next morning she watches Lucifer’s gleeful entrance to the precinct from the shelter of Ella’s lab. Every observation only solidifies her decision to stop working with Kinley and protect her partner. He comes bearing coffee, donuts, special treats for every person he greets with a compliment or a friendly joke. She watches Dan glaring daggers at him from under the stairs and tries to ignore the twisting in her gut as Lucifer enters the room with coffees for her and Ella.

The technician’s findings lead them back to the filming location, to speak with Maury Novak, the executive producer. Now the roles are reversed from their earlier visit with Judd, Chloe reeling Lucifer back away from his eagerness to make an arrest so they can go on their date. He walks away in a huff as Chloe and Maury go in search of Kylie.

They find her on the monitors piping propane gas into the cabin just as Lucifer walks inside to find a quiet place to cool down from his agitated state. She watches her partner sitting calmly on the table on one monitor while Kylie flicks a lighter on another and throws it inside, she sees the tiny sputtering flame slide across the floor and Lucifer’s head start to turn as he notices. The horror rises in her throat with her scream as the screen holding her partner snows into static as the monitor showing the front view of the cabin erupts into a blazing conflagration, blowing out the windows with billowing orange tongues of flame and roiling black smoke.

 _“Nooooooo!!!!”_ The cry rips itself from her body with the force of the explosion and all she can do is stare for a long moment, torn between sobbing and laughing hysterically.

_It doesn’t even matter that I couldn’t call off Kinley. He got second-degree burns when Sol de Javier burned down, there’s no way he could survive this!_

But then, from the flaming interior she sees a shape, traveling unaffected through the flame like a dark phoenix, _or a demon_ , he emerges.

“How is he doing that?” She breathes, and her body is in motion before she can even make a conscious decision. He’s patting down his smoldering jacket when she reaches him, gasping.

“I wouldn't go in there, Detective,” he greets her jauntily, “It's hotter than...Well, you know.”

“Yeah,” she responds dazedly, “It blew up. I - I saw it. I...I was so scared, but you... You walked right through. You're fine. I... You're completely fine.”

He looks at her, quizzical. “Well, it's one of the perks of living in a fiery pit of despair most of my life?”

She nods her head faintly, heart still racing at what she had witnessed, at what she had _felt_ in that moment. Devastation. A loss so profound it couldn’t even begin to be quantifiable. Her brain processes that realization in the background while their new lead suspect comes running up and apologizes as Chloe reads her rights and conducts the interview.

“Well then, I guess that’s case closed.” Lucifer steps forward, watching as Kylie is led away.

“Yeah.”

He turns to look at her with a smile that rapidly falls. “Detective, I understand that you and me, it’s… the last thing I want to do is push you into something you don’t want. So, if you’re not ready, or you don’t want to go on a date with me…” His expression is open, honest, and his breathing is a little shaky as his voice trails off.

“No, I do.” She confirms, her brain providing her recent realization as rock-solid evidence that she’s making the right decision this time. “I do want to.”

“Really?” She nods, and a smaller smile reappears on his face. “Right, well, why don’t you go home and get some rest, and I’ll pick you up around 7?”

“Um, why don’t I just meet you at your place?” Privacy is going to be paramount for this conversation…

“Even better,” his smile widens until his eyes crinkle at their corners. He nods, and she flees.

*********************

Chloe enters the elevator at Lux and presses the button for Lucifer’s penthouse, swaying restlessly the entire ride up. The door chimes as it opens onto an unexpectedly simple scene. She removes her shoes out of habit, then smiles and steps forward, smiling nervously.

“Hi, Lucifer.”

“Detective, you look beautiful.” He sounds flustered, as though his breath has been stolen away, and he takes a deep breath after those few words fall from his lips. She smirks to herself, deciding to enjoy these last few moments of camaraderie while they last. _Apparently even the devil gets nervous_.

“Thank you,” she chuckles anxiously. “No white tablecloth this time?”

“Ah,” he surveys his low table, set for two with comfortable places to sit on the floor. “No, well, that went down like a pork chop at a kosher wedding, so I made some adjustments.”

“Of course you did,” she agrees.

_“If you don't respond favorably to something, well, he'll make an adjustment until you do. Anything to make sure he gets what he wants. Because the only person that he is interested in is himself.”_

_Of course he’s not going to remind me of that situation, with Pierce and everything horrible that was happening then. What kind of an idiot wouldn’t make an adjustment after a fiasco like that? It would be insanity to try to repeat it with a better result._

“Please, sit!” he invites cheerfully. He crosses the room and removes the covers from two plates with a flourish, bringing them to the table as he continues speaking. “I made you grilled cheese, your favorite. And not the fancy smelly stuff, just the yummy orange kind that you like.” They both chuckle, and she struggles to come up with the courage to do what she needs to do. He pours them each a glass of wine, and takes a deep breath. “Detective, there is something I’d like to say to you. Whilst I... realize that knowing the truth about me may not be easy for you... I am glad that there are no secrets between us now. And if you ever have any more questions, I shall be happy to answer any and all of them. I've always been honest with you, Detective. And I always will be.”

“Lucifer, I need to-“ Chloe begins with a tremulous smile, just as he exclaims -

“Oh!” He laughs, as he jumps up from his seat. “Sorry. Silly me. I forgot the music. I made a playlist full of bad '90s jams for you.”

“Lucifer, can I use your restroom, please?” she calls as he darts off into the depths of the apartment to start the music.

“Of course, darling, you know where it is.”

She takes the vial from her pocket and sets it in plain view by her plate, then darts off to the restroom where she can hyperventilate for a moment and stare at herself in the mirror. She jumps as the music starts blaring, and giggles to herself as she hears his shouted apology at having left it so loud.

 _He’s probably noticed the vial by now, Decker, so you can’t chicken out,_ she thinks smugly to herself. _Of course he’ll ask about it, and you’ll have to tell him what you were going to do._

She splashes some cool water on her face and pats it dry with the insanely soft towel hanging on the rack before exiting back to the sitting room, where Lucifer is standing by the table with his glass of wine in his hand.

“Shall we toast, Detective? To another case closed?” he reaches down to gather her glass to offer her and she notices the vial is in a different place on the table, nearly tucked out of sight, in fact. She takes her glass absently and reaches for the vial, noticing immediately that it’s nearly empty now as she lifts it in her hand.

As though in slow-motion, she sees Lucifer lifting his glass to his lips in a toast, and she does the first thing that comes to mind- she flings out her hand and knocks the glass from his hand with her second, desperately shouted “No!” in the past 24 hours.

The glass tumbles to the Italian marble floor, eclipsing the background music in a cacophony of shattering shards scattering in every direction.

“Detective! What on-“ He scrambles to start picking up the razor-like shards, glancing anxiously at her sock-clad feet. “Be careful darling, don’t move ‘til I get this – _ouch!”_

 _“Damn,”_ his palm is gashed and gushing blood as he tucks his hand close to him, bringing it to his mouth to suck on the wound. He pulls a sizable piece of glass from the cut and squeezes it carefully, hissing at the stinging pain.

“You’re bleeding?” She asks, confused.

“I’m fine,” he laughs, “I’m fine. Fine. Don’t move, Detective, your feet!” He gets up and crosses to the bar, keeping the wound pressed to his mouth until he can grab a towel to staunch the flow.

“You’re bleeding!” Chloe parrots herself, mind whirling.

“I’m fine!” he repeats again, as though saying it again will make it so.

“You’re _bleeding_ and no, no it’s not fine!” He makes a sound of distress as she disregards his request to hold still and carefully crosses the room after him. She approaches, takes his bleeding hand in hers, and gazes at the blood now soaking the white linen. “It's...You know what, y-yes, I do have a question for you. How is it that you walk away from a giant, fiery explosion without a scratch, but _right now_ you are bleeding? You... You were shot in the hand last week. You almost died when Malcolm shot you in the gut. I mean, _I_ shot you. I shot you. And I felt horribly about that, by the way. But what... _is this_?” Now she’s not only concerned, but getting _angry_. There is _something wrong here_ and she doesn’t understand what it is and all of that fear and anger and confusion and guilt just comes pouring from her in a wave. “Is anything even real with you? Were... Were you trying to manipulate me? W-Were you trying to make me feel bad? Wh...Is this all to make me care about you more?”

“No,” he breathes, aghast.

“Then what? How is it that sometimes you don't get hurt and then, other times, you do? What is the difference?” She squeezes her hand around the towel, and he hisses, the wound stinging quite badly by now.

“You are, Detective.” He doesn’t hesitate with his answer, doesn’t remove his gaze from her accusing eyes, though his are now shadowed with something like awe. “I don't fully understand why, but... I'm only vulnerable when I'm close to you.” He chuckles ironically, “Which is why there was no ‘almost’ about my dying when Malcolm shot me. He really did kill me… I was just lucky dear old Dad needed me back here to do a little job for him, so he brought me back after agreeing to a little deal.”

Chloe is about to pursue that little nugget when her phone chimes. She pulls it from her pocket automatically and checks it. “It's a text from Ella to call her immediately.”

Lucifer just watches her, waiting to see what she will do. She stares back into his eyes for a moment, weighing her decision. She’s got the mostly empty vial now, so even if Kinley _is_ still here, he won’t be able to try to poison Lucifer again. If she leaves, he’ll be perfectly safe, because _apparently_ he can only be harmed when he’s around her… and isn’t _that_ just a whole new rabbit hole of guilt to explore in her free time –

_One catastrophe at a time, Decker. Lucifer’s safe for now, follow up with the case, the rest can wait._

She dials the phone. New information on the case, a new lead. She knows who the killer is.

“I'll call you from the car, okay?” She speaks into the receiver, and hangs up the phone.

“Detective...” Lucifer begins, but she cuts him off.

“No, no, no. I think I should do this on my own. For now.” She’s in the elevator, pressing the button for the garage level, slipping her boots back on as the door closes. _You stay here and stay safe_ , she doesn’t say.

Back on site at The Cabin filming location, she confronts the cameraman with her warrant to search his equipment, and quickly finds the battery with the blood traces on it. He spins his sob story about working constantly while everyone around him gets to take it easy, playing the game as he approaches her, axe held high. She draws her gun as he flings the axe and a staggering, familiar shape stumbles in front of her with a slurred, “Detective, no!”

The axe collides with a sickening crunching noise and the body drops with an agonized grunt. She fires, hitting the axe-wielding cameraman in the leg and on-site security comes to haul him away as she drops to her knees beside her partner. His chest is flailing in desperate attempts to pull in breaths as blood bubbles with horrible sucking sounds from the wound and his lips. She calls frantically for a medic, and hears the call echoed outside.

“You idiot!” she sobs, cradling his head on her lap, her hand pressed to his chest to monitor his racing, stuttering heartbeat. “You just told me you already died once for me… are you so eager to try it again?”

“Again,” he agrees soundlessly, lips moving without producing the word. His dark eyes are locked on hers as though she’s all he ever wants to see again. “And… again. Don’t… you know… that, Detective?”

“No-“

Medics swarm them, pulling her away, stabilizing the axe protruding from his chest and working to get him transported to the nearest trauma center.

“He’s my partner, I need to go with him.” _What will happen if he becomes invulnerable while they’re trying to save his life?_ She wonders desperately, _how close do I need to be?_ She doesn’t know, and she’s terrified to find out, she has to stay close.

“Blood pressure’s dropping!”

“Oxygen in place!

“Get that IV in, we need to get his pressure up!”

The EMTs shout at each other as they wheel Lucifer to the ambulance, Chloe sticking close by but out of the way. The doors close. The sirens wail.

Chloe fights not to do the same.


	3. A Devil of my Word

“No, no, no.” Chloe bends over, slipping on her boots as the lift doors start to close. “I think I should do this on my own. For now.”

He effortlessly reads the inherent ‘keep away from me’ vibes she’s sending, and he closes his eyes against the pain in his chest rather than watch her run from him yet again.

He turns to survey the carnage of his sitting room, ignoring the insistent stinging in his hand, which now seems to have spread to his wrist. He frowns at the bloody towel. _Odd. These paltry little nicks don’t usually hurt so badly._ He turns to the sink to wash the blood from his hand, then wraps a fresh towel around it as he moves to the bathroom where he stashed the fancy first aid kit he picked up when he needed to fish the bullets out of his wings last month. He finds a gauze pad and some flexible tape to hold it in place, and awkwardly bandages the swiftly reddening cut.

Once he’s got the bandage in place, he swiftly cleans the spilled wine and clears away the fragments of the wineglass, no longer worried about cuts since the Detective is gone. He dispiritedly tosses the sandwiches in the bin and sets the dishes aside for cleaning once his hand is healed. He glares at the bandage, which is starting to show a little spot of blood on the surface, despite the thick gauze pad on the wound. _Curiouser and curiouser. It should be healed by now, she’s been gone nearly half an hour._

But it continues to bleed, and the stinging has actually gotten worse. He looks again and the redness that had been around the wound when he wrapped it is starting to creep out from under the bandage in disturbing crimson tendrils, following the framework of his veins under the skin. Well. He had hoped to be all healed up before he followed her, but he doesn’t want to wait any longer. Even though the Detective drives like a snail on a sleep aid, he knows with the light traffic this time of night she should be there within 15 minutes. He unfurls his wings and in a flicker of bending space finds himself at the filming location of The Cabin. He melts into the shadows under the trees and waits for the Detective to arrive, staring again at his bandaged hand. He frowns as he notices a slight blurriness to his vision, always perfectly crisp, even in the dark. His mouth is dry, and he reaches for his flask, noticing a tingling in his lips and tongue as he swallows that has nothing to do with the smooth burn of the whiskey. He fumbles as he replaces the lid and is clumsily tucking it back into his breast pocket when the Detective’s cruiser pulls up and parks.

He remains still as she exits the cruiser and he waits until she makes her way to one of the crew buildings before he trails her, his footsteps wavering unsteadily. He shakes his head as his vision unfocuses further, and uses the building to support his efforts to remain upright as he sneaks around to the side door where he has a clear view of the Detective. He glances blearily down at his hand again and sees the scarlet tendrils have crept well beyond his wrist and disappeared under his shirt sleeve. He pulls his wandering mind back to the occupants of the building, not completely able to follow words at the moment, but reading the tone and intent of the voices. Chloe’s voice placating, the cameraman agitated, aggressive, defensive. He catches the flicker of movement as he hauls back the axe to throw and doesn’t hesitate, though his body is slow to respond to his command.

“Detective, NO!” his tongue and lips are clumsy, and don’t quite form the words correctly, but he manages to make it between the weapon and his beloved. The heavy chock of the axe as it cleaves his ribs thunders in his ears like a gunshot and then all he can do is lie on the floor, staring vaguely at the ceiling as he struggles for breath. The searing pain peaks with each attempted breath, and he can see the axe handle bobbing with the heaving of his chest. A horrible rattling noise fills his throat and he feels the warmth of the blood on his skin cooling in the night air as Chloe’s face comes into view above him, beautiful ocean eyes wet and wide in, what? Surprise? Fear? Concern?

“You idiot!” she cries, moving his head until it rests on something warm and soft. “You just told me you already died once for me… are you so eager to try it again?”

“Again,” he agrees, but he doesn’t hear his voice emerge from his throat. “And… again. Don’t… you know… that, Detective?” Again, his efforts are heralded with silence, but her eyes remain on his and he thinks she might have understood what he was trying to say. _This is what happens when the devil dares to think he might be allowed to be happy..._

His vision starts to darken, but he can just make out her lips moving before she’s pulled away and his obscured vision is filled with grim-faced EMTs working diligently over him. The stinging, tingling sensation from his hand and mouth has spread over the rest of his body now, and some detached part of his brain finds it strange that he can even register that mild discomfort when jolts of icy agony are shooting from the axe-head currently buried in his thorax as the EMTs scramble to try to stabilize him for transport. The voices dim into a distant ebb and flow of sound, now accompanied by a carnival of beeping noises as a background susurration of melody eclipsed by the bass vibration of his heart thudding in his ears. His vision narrows until finally all he can see are the illusory lights that spark behind his eyelids with each punishing bolt of stabbing pain radiating through him with each bump as the ambulance travels the rutted road from the crime scene.

***************************

Chloe makes herself small in the corner of the ambulance to stay out of the EMTs way as they work on her partner. They cut his shirt away and mutter to each other about oxygen concentration and blood pressure and fluid boluses.

“I’m telling you, he’s already gotten twice the dose he should have!” One of the technicians bursts out. “He’s not responding. Any more and it could kill him!”

Chloe stifles a sob and the voices lower again to terse mutterings drowned out by the alarms on the surrounding machines. Lucifer’s arm, bare now but for the bandaged hand, drops off the side of his gurney, hanging limply. She reaches out to take it in hers, and notices the palm of the bandage is saturated with blood.

_The hole from the gunshot a couple of days ago didn’t bleed this much, and it had gone through his entire hand. What on Earth?_

The she notices the creeping scarlet tendrils stretching from under the bandage, her eyes following the tracery of veins up his arm, nearly to his shoulder. Her eyes flicker to his face and she sees a fainter web of lines originating from his lips, snaking down his pale throat. The nearly empty vial in her pocket suddenly feels as though it’s burning into her thigh.

 _Did he drink it after all? How did-? Oh…_ Her eyes dart back down to his bloody, bandaged hand. _Oh, no._

_“Be careful darling, don’t move ‘til I get this – ouch! Damn,” he brings it to his mouth to suck on the wound, carefully removing the enormous piece of glass from it._

_It’s only a sedative, right?_ She thinks frantically to herself, but she knows better. Of course a fanatic like Kinley isn’t going to take any risks with giving a _sedative_ to the devil- it’s got to be a toxin… and a damned strong one. _Shit._

“There’s a good chance that axe blade may have been poisoned,” Chloe blurts, before her fear can paralyze her. The paramedics don’t stop working, but one of them diverts some attention to her.

“What makes you suspect poison?” He barks.

“Look at his arm, the veins down his throat?” She suggests tentatively. She pulls the vial from her pocket. “The… I found this- it’s mostly empty but it could be relevant.”

She’s breaking chain of evidence now, but if they’re going to save him, they need to know what they might be dealing with here.

“We’ll have to check it once we get to the hospital.” One of the paramedics takes it with his gloved hand and carefully places it in a Ziploc bag with a clear label for toxin. “Todd, what’s the ETA?”

The driver’s response is muffled, but the EMTs continue working with single-minded concentration. Chloe strokes Lucifer’s hand, letting the guilt gnaw away at her.

They’re greeted at the hospital with a frantic flurry of activity, calling patient stats and findings and readings between the two teams and Chloe tries to sneak in alongside the gurney but the nurse is too experienced too fall for that maneuver. She gently but firmly shuttles Chloe to the waiting room and provides her with a clipboard and a mound of paperwork to try to fill out. She stares at the doors the gurney disappeared through, then at the clipboard held hopelessly in her trembling hands. She can barely even read the questions, but knows she doesn’t have any of the answers.

Date of birth? “Older than linear time”

Blood type? “Celestial”

Family Medical History? “Immortality, plus one crucifixion”

Previous surgeries? “DIY wing amputation, double”

Finally she blinks out of her useless daze and pulls out her phone. She’s been sitting here over an hour. It’s time to face the music; she needs to call Amenadiel.

Her finger hovers over his contact for a moment before she sucks in a deep breath and begins the call. One ring, two… _pick up, pick up, pick up_ …

“Chloe?” The voice is definitely _not_ Amenadiel’s rich, soothing timbre and she blinks in confusion for a moment before she recognizes it. “Linda?” She pulls the phone away from her ear, checking she dialed the right contact.

“Yeah, Chloe, it’s me. Sorry, I didn’t realize it was Amenadiel’s phone that was ringing, but when I picked it up I saw it was you calling-“

“No, it’s fine. Is… is he there?” Her voice is starting to tremble and she presses a hand to her chest, willing herself to keep it together.

“Of course, let me get him. Are you- is everything okay, Chloe?”

“No.” The word comes out on a sob. “No, Linda, _Nothing_ is okay. I’m at Cedars-Sinai, Lucifer’s been admitted with an axe to the chest and…” her voice breaks and suddenly she can’t breathe. She hears fumbling on the line, and Amenadiel’s voice fills her ear.

“Chloe? Hey, it’s okay, Linda and I are coming. Do you need anything?” She draws in a shuddering breath, her head in her hands.

“Just… I… He... Just come, please?”

“We’re on our way, Chloe, is there anyone there with you now?”

Just then a woman in dark green scrubs comes out the door and calls, “Detective Decker?” to the room. She stands, leaving the blank forms behind and hurries to the herald.

“I’ve got to go- they’re calling for me. See you when you get here.” She disconnects the call absently, even though she can still hear Amenadiel speaking as she pulls the phone away from her ear. “I’m Detective Decker.”

“Ah, good.” The woman gives her a tight smile, and leads her into a small private sitting area off the waiting room. “I’m Dr. Denton. We’re working on your partner now. What can you tell us about his history?”

“I don’t have much, he’s usually pretty healthy.” _Unless he’s dying because he’s near me…_ She shakes her head. “Bullet wound to the right outer thigh about 3 years ago, just a graze. Stab wound to the chest a few months ago, but healed without incident. He’s got some nasty scars on his back, but they’re old.”

“Scars?” the doctor looks puzzled, flipping through the sheaf of papers in her hand. “Odd, those didn’t get documented.”

“I could be wrong,” Chloe corrects hurriedly. “Other than his reason for being here today, I’m afraid I’m not much help.”

“Yes, let’s talk about that- you told the EMTs you thought the axe blade might have been poisoned?”

“That’s… a possibility. He could have been exposed to the poison earlier in the evening as well, but I gave them the bottle I found-“

“Yes, we’re working it up now. It’s certainly potent, but we haven’t been able to identify it yet. Which means we don’t know what we need to do to counter it other than treating the symptoms.”

“What are the symptoms?” Chloe prompts worriedly.

“At the moment we’re still in triage. He’s in surgery for the axe wound. Punctured and collapsed lung resulting in a lot of blood and air in the chest cavity. Massive blood volume loss. We haven’t had time to evaluate further until we’ve got him stabilized.” The doctor’s face is kind, but somber. “I don’t want to give you false hope, Detective, we’ve come close to losing him entirely more than once. It’s not helping that we’re having to use a higher than normal dose of drugs to keep him anesthetized, either.”

“He’s… he’s really strong. I know he’ll pull through.” _He has to._ “So, you haven’t noticed anything you might be able to assign to being from a toxin?”

“Aside from that strange… vasculitis that you noticed in the ambulance, no. Not yet anyway, bloodwork is still pending.”

_What the hell kind of weirdness is bloodwork on the devil going to show? Off the charts brimstone?_

“Can I see him?” Her voice is small, faint.

“No, Detective, he’s still in the OR. Will be for quite a while, most likely. We can call you, if-“

“No.” Now her voice is louder than she intended, tone sharp. “I’m not leaving. His brother is on the way. If… If I can get his wallet, maybe his phone? I might be able to fill in some of those forms…”

“All right, Detective, I’ll see about having his effects delivered to you. Would you prefer to wait in here?”

She thinks about the conversation she’s going to need to have with Amenadiel when he arrives. “Yes, please.” The doctor nods and exits, Chloe gazing wistfully after her as she disappears behind the ward doors.

Some time later, Chloe receives a bag with Lucifer’s belongings, and she pulls herself together enough to go claim the abandoned clipboard and forms. She pulls out Lucifer’s wallet and starts with his driver’s license. She fills in the relevant details she can glean from his ID, then idly peruses the other items in the bag. His ring. Shoes. Phone. Flask. A…shoe? She fumbles down to the bottom corner of the bag and pinches the tiny piece between her fingers, pulling it out and staring it at, dumbfounded. It’s the shoe game piece from her Monopoly set. It had been missing for ages, since Lucifer’s first game night with them- what felt like lifetimes ago.

 _Has he been carrying it with him all this time? Why?_ She tucks the tiny shoe into her own pocket, a talisman to keep him with her since she’s not wearing the bullet necklace anymore. She pulls out his phone and activates the screen.

Password protected. He told her what it was, once… ah but she’s forgotten. She rests her index finger against the print scanner on the back and the camera app pops up, snapping a photo of her focused expression. To her surprise, it unlocks the phone. On the homescreen is one single icon, the camera gallery. She timidly taps the icon, afraid of what she might find. She finds several dozen videos with thumbnail icons that all look similar to one another, all Lucifer at the bar in the penthouse. She clicks the most recent one and it starts to play.

 _“Hello, Detective,”_ Video Lucifer greets her, but it lacks the enthusiasm that she usually hears when she gets this greeting in person. _“I’ve had a friend set up my phone with his shadow profile accessible with a security snapshot of your lovely face, on the off-chance that you wind up with this phone after, well. After I’m done with it, I suppose.”_ He smiles into the camera, but it’s empty. He looks as though he hasn’t been sleeping well- the lines on his face a little deeper than normal, his hair just slightly mussed- though he’s obviously made some effort to look put together for the camera. She pauses the video and checks the info tags for the date it was filmed. Two days before she returned from her ‘vacation’.

 _“I’m very close to accepting the fact that you might choose not to come back from your vacation at all, after… what you saw. After seeing me. What I am.”_ His eyes flicker down briefly before making contact with the camera again, boring back into hers. _“I’ve no wish to keep you from your home, Detective. So, I wanted to… to make this as easy for you as I may. I’m leaving. I’ve a few things to wrap up for Lux and my properties, but next week I intend to let the new Lieutenant know that I resign as civilian consultant and say goodbye to my friends at the precinct, so that hopefully you will get word that I’ve gone, so that you can come back.”_ He takes a wavering breath, and forces a grin, but it doesn’t reach the sadness in his eyes. _“You needn’t worry that you’ll run into me again- I won’t be in LA, or… well, anywhere you would ever expect to be. I’ll be going, er, back. Home. Oh, bollocks.”_ He shakes his head, mutters to himself for a moment. _“I want to be clear, Detective, I’m going back to Hell. You and your Spawn will be perfectly safe from me, and I promise not to return during either of your lifetimes. I hope you still know that I am a devil of my word.”_ His left hand moves to absently stroke the stone in his ring. _“You’ll also be hearing from my lawyer in a few months, they have some paperwork for you, and I hope you’ll be willing to use what they offer. They have alternate instructions should you refuse, but I do hope… well. It would make me happy to think you might be able to forgive me enough to use it. And I know you will use it well. You can tell the Urchin that I’m sorry I wasn’t able to make it to another game night, but I understand if you’d rather she forget about me completely. I’m sure_ you _would.”_ That last is clearly to himself, nearly under his breath before he remembers the camera once again. _“Right. So. I am deeply sorry, Detective, for implanting myself into your existence the way I did. I’ve turned your entire life upside down and given it a thorough shake, and nothing I can do now will change that. But I’m going to try to make it so you can return to some semblance of normalcy without having to watch over your shoulder for the devil. Oh, and do talk to Linda, if you need to- she knows. I enjoyed our partnership very much, Detective. I hope you don’t mind if I remember you fondly.”_ He picks up the phone and it fumbles for a moment as he locates the shutter on the screen, and she hears him murmur _“Forever,”_ as the video ends.

She sits in silence with his phone clutched in her hands, staring at the darkened screen. Her hands start to cramp and she realizes how tightly she’s gripping it, her knuckles white around the screen. She tucks the phone into her blazer pocket, and lifts her hands to her face. They come away clammy and she’s suddenly aware that she’s started to cry silent tears. She pulls her hands down her cheeks, and feels the cooled tear tracks down her throat, and soaking into the neckline of her shirt. She finds a box of tissues in the room and cleans herself up as best she can. She’s just blowing her nose when there’s a tap on the door and she looks up hopefully as Linda’s blonde head pokes inside, lighting up with relief when she recognizes Chloe.

“Here!” She calls out the door, presumably to Amenadiel, who follows closely behind her. They leave the door ajar in case anyone comes looking for them. Linda crosses the small room as Chloe stands, and the Detective finds herself wrapped in her friend’s reassuring embrace.

She had thought she was all cried out, but the warmth of her friend’s concern opens the floodgate again. Linda holds her as she battles to subdue the sobs wracking her frame. Amenadiel stands apart, awkwardly shifting his weight as he patiently waits for Chloe to pull herself together enough to tell him what happened.

“I’m so sorry,” she manages when she’s no longer resembling a human hosepipe. “It’s just that-“

“Chloe, you have every right to be upset,” Linda consoles her.

“What can you tell us about Luci?” Amenadiel queries anxiously.

“He’s still in surgery. He-,” She pauses, pushing away the memory of the dull thud of the axe combining with the sharp crack of his splitting ribs… the air rattling and bubbling in his chest and throat as she hovered helplessly over him. “He dove in front of me when a suspect threw an axe at me- I didn’t even know he was there! He was supposed to be _home_ , and _safe…_ ”

“You thought he was in danger before he dove in front of the axe?” Amenadiel clarifies, confused. “Chloe, I thought…” but he trails off, not finishing his sentence.

“No, I _do_ know.” Chloe nods, reassuring the angel in the room. “I saw… him. But… This is where it gets hard to explain, because… because it’s not just the axe that’s the problem.” Her eyes flicker nervously to Amenadiel, then to Linda and back.

“There’s something else on top of the axe wound to his chest?” Linda’s eyebrows lift in surprise. “Compared to that, what else would be considered significant?”

“He… there’s a good chance that he may have been poisoned?” It comes out as though it’s a question.

“Poisoned?” Amenadiel actually laughs in relief. “Chloe, there are precious few toxins that will work on a celestial, I don’t think you need to worry about that.”

“I think he was poisoned with something that came from the Vatican. In, um, Rome.” She forces the words out in a rush, and the angel goes still, mirth dying immediately.

“Okay. You need to tell me what you know, Chloe. Now, please.” His words are polite but his tone indicates that he will allow no dissembling, no evasion.

Chloe tells the truth from the time she met Kinley ‘til now, sparing herself not at all. She feels Linda tensing beside her, trying desperately not to react to Chloe’s confession but flinching in unconscious response once or twice. Amenadiel absorbs it all without changing expression, still as stone. When the story comes full circle to the hospital, to Lucifer’s video farewell, she simply stops speaking, head down, ready to accept her condemnation. Silence reigns in the small room, nearly ringing within the walls.

“You think this priest was in the penthouse?” Amenadiel finally asks.

Chloe blinks in surprise at his choice of topic. “Unless he has an accomplice?” She speculates, “But I don’t know what kind of authority he would have here in LA, what kind of network he might have to reach out to. He’s a fanatic, Amenadiel, I don’t think he would delegate something like… something like this unless he absolutely had to. I didn’t see him, but I _do_ think he was there.”

“If you thought he was at the penthouse, then why did you leave Lucifer there alone?”

“Because, he told me that he’s _only_ vulnerable when he’s near me…” Chloe admits miserably. “I thought, that if I got far enough away from him, his hand would heal up and Kinley wouldn’t be able to hurt him. It didn’t occur to me that the tiny amount of… of poison that might have been on the piece of glass would affect him.”

“And you were intending to tell Lucifer all this tonight.”

“Yes,” she sighs heavily. “He’ll never forgive me, but he needs to know the truth. I… I wouldn’t deserve his forgiveness, anyway.”

Amenadiel is quiet for a long moment, and Linda watches both of them closely. 

"Chloe," he begins softly, "I will not speak for my brother, because I know that this is going to wound him deeply if he survives his current crisis." Chloe flinches, but can't deny the truth of the words. "But, I will not judge you for your actions. I have wronged my brother in many ways, including trying to have him killed in order to return him to Hell where I felt he belonged at the time." His dark eyes meet hers as she raises her gaze, astonished at his confession. She transfers her gaze to Linda, who shakes her head.

"I didn't try to kill him, I just went into lockdown, freakout mode for two weeks until Maze came around to talk me out of it. I still have occasional freakout modes, but I don't feel the need to run anymore."

"Neither do I," Chloe assures them both. 

"Detective Decker?" A soft knock at the door and Dr. Denton appears, looking exhausted. "Oh, hello"

Chloe stands hurriedly. "This is Lucifer's brother, Amenadiel, and this is our close friend Linda."

"Ah. Ha." Dr. Denton looks from Amenadiel to Chloe and back again. "Well. Mr. Amenadiel, your brother is out of surgery, but he's certainly not stable yet. He's lost a lot of blood and has a long road of intense healing ahead of him, in addition to whatever we can find out about this potential toxin he may have been exposed to."

"Have you found out anything more about it? What it is? What it's doing to him?" Chloe probes.

"We haven't matched it to anything yet."

"May I see the vial?" Amenadiel asks diffidently. "I have some... esoteric expertise that may help in its origin." 

The doctor glances at Chloe, who nods. "I think we can arrange that, Mr. Amenadiel. I'll be right back with the bottle, and I'll send someone for you when Mr. Morningstar is allowed visitors, okay?"

"Thank you, Doctor," the angel responds seriously.

She returns with the baggie and vial, and leaves it with them before returning to the ward. 

Amenadiel levels a resolute look at the two women. "I need to take this to someone for study to see if an antidote is available. I should not be gone long."

He glances at the door, then again at the women, before unfurling his wings and vanishing in the space of a heartbeat.

Chloe’s strangled gasp brings Linda back into the moment, and the smaller woman pats her back comfortingly. “I know, they take some getting used to. I haven’t seen Amenadiel’s before, they look much different than Lucifer’s.”

“Lucifer doesn’t have wings anymore, Linda, he cut them off years ago. I’ve seen the scars.”

“That’s true.” Linda agrees. “But they came back, a little over a year ago.”

“They.. they came _back?_ ” she chokes, “How does that even happen?”

“Nobody’s really sure…” Linda sighs, “But… he did something amazing and felt good about it, so… he has wings again. I’ve seen them. Both on and off his back.” She mutters that last to herself.

“What are they… detachable?” Chloe’s brows furrow in consternation. “I guess that explains why they didn’t find any scars on his back…”

“They’re not detachable, but…” Linda hesitates, unsure how much she should share. Ah, to Hell with it, Lucifer wouldn’t want her to lie. “He cut them off again. Quite a few times, before I convinced him to let them just… be.”

“How -?” Chloe thinks about those horrible scars traversing the length of his torso.

“I don’t know. He said Maze refused to do it again, and I wouldn’t do it when he asked me, so… he either paid someone to do it, or did it himself.” Linda’s voice is flat, all emotion forced out of it.

_A vague memory of being surrounded by walls of warm whiteness, agonized strangled cries ringing in her ears... Bloody white feathers crunching under her boots, scattered across the roof and the bullet riddled tiles of the loft..._

"Linda?" Chloe asks, though she knows the answer. "His wings... They're white, aren't they?"

"Detective Decker?" A young nurse appears in the doorway. "Mr. Morningstar has been assigned a room, if you'd like to see him?"

"He's awake??" Chloe's heart leaps in hope.

"Oh! No, I'm sorry, he's still out. We're keeping him sedated so he doesn't fight his tube."

"Tube?" 

"His lung collapsed, he has a severe pneumohemothorax, and his airway wound up with a lot of blood in it as well. He has an airway tube right now to help avoid any further aspiration problems."

Chloe looks to Linda, who nods encouragingly. "The last thing he needs right now is to worry about drowning as he's working on healing, Chloe."

The nurse shifts her weight impatiently, and the two friends follow her briskly to Lucifer's room. 

Chloe stops short just inside the door, but Linda continues on to the bedside.

Chloe is positive they have the wrong room. Her partner could never be so still, so... dwarfed by the machines and cords and tubes surrounding him. The faint hiss of the oxygen and the bubbling of the humidifier are nearly eclipsed by the myriad soft beeps of the multiple monitors displaying jagged squiggles and lines and measurements that she doesn't have a prayer of understanding. And even with all those sounds, it seems quiet as a tomb, because Lucifer is in the room and he's not making a sound beyond the harsh rasp of air being moved in and out of his body. She notices a bag hanging discretely at his bedside, about half full of blood. Linda notices her looking.

"It's to drain the blood from his chest. They'll have placed a tube to-"

"Okay," Chloe whispers silently, feeling a little green. "Hopefully his healing kicks in soon. Should I go? So he can heal?"

_This is my fault. It should be me laying there._

Linda gently picks up his bandaged right hand, peering at it and the vermilion tracery of the veins up his arm. "This is what you saw in the ambulance?"

Chloe nods. 

"Let's wait until Amenadiel returns," Linda decides, "We don't know what will happen if his healing kicks in with all these tubes in place... You said his hand was still bleeding from the cut from the glass, though, a couple hours after it happened?"

She nods again, unable to speak, her eyes never leaving Lucifer's ghostly pale countenance.

"Maybe this poison, or whatever it is, is keeping him from healing at his normal rate, even if you're not nearby."

"I think that is a reasonable deduction, Dr. Linda Martin," comes a new voice from behind them, and Chloe moves closer to Lucifer's side, ready to defend him if needed. The speaker stands next to Amenadiel, wearing jeans and a polo shirt with a white coat bearing the hospital logo. He's nearly as tall as the angel beside him, but nowhere near as wide. Not lanky and oozing grace like Lucifer, but... average. Short, light brown hair and wide-set, bright green eyes adorn an oval face that's set in concern. "I think I need to examine my patient."

"Chloe, Linda," Amenadiel begins, "this is my brother Raphael. The Healer."


	4. Like a Sailor on a Three-Day Shore Leave

“Can you help him?” Chloe pleads, taking a step toward the stranger.

He regards her steadily. “You are the human that renders him vulnerable?”

She nods, shrinking back toward Lucifer again.

“That may warrant my attention after I have completed my examination. May I approach?” His smile is wry, and Chloe gives him a startled look until she realizes she’s positioned herself as a shield between the Healer and the still form in the bed behind her. Embarrassed, she steps away from the bedside, allowing the stranger to approach.

“Amenadiel brought me the vial that you suspect was used to poison the patient. It is not of Earthly origin, but is also not from my stores.” Raphael reaches out his hand until it’s less than inch from Lucifer’s face, fingers spread wide. A soft light emanates from his palm as he continues to speak, “I suspect that it may have been stolen from our brother Arael’s collection. It was his duty to create all manner of botanical varietals, and to determine how they could be harvested and used.”

“Even the poisonous ones?” Linda seems surprised.

“Especially those. Poison is often simply a matter of exposure,” Raphael replies calmly, eyes focused on the barely-breathing body in front of him. “Many toxins have beneficial uses, in tiny doses- it’s merely in misuse where they become problematic.”

“And this particular one?” Amenadiel wonders.

“This one has no beneficial use,” the Healer growls quietly. “The plant was culled before it was even introduced on the Earthly plane, Father deemed it too problematic to be allowed to proliferate beyond the prototype. I agree with his assessment, I have never seen a toxin that would act on a celestial- even a fallen one.”

“He has a name, you know.” Chloe’s noticed that he hasn’t bothered to use it, and she bristles at his clinical, fascinated tone.

“Oh, indeed he does. He has many, in fact, none of which I will deign to use.” His attention remains on whatever he’s doing with Lucifer. “He is fallen, anathema, and not worthy of regard.”

Amenadiel shifts uncomfortably as his brother elaborates coldly, and Chloe feels a spike of rage cut through her fog of guilt and worry.

“If you’re not here out of concern for him, then why did you come?” She bursts out angrily, moving back toward the bed as though to pull him away. Amenadiel gently rests his fingers on her elbow, a request to wait.

“Why, I am here out of professional curiosity. Two reasons, really, both of which I have already divulged.” He pulls his hand away from Lucifer’s face, wrinkling his nose as he wipes his hand on his jeans, as though he feels fouled. “But, as you are human, I can repeat them for your clarity.”

“Oh, thank you ever so,” Chloe snaps, and the angel nods affably, completely unphased by the sarcasm.

“I am here because I have never seen a toxin that will work on a celestial being. I wanted to gauge its effect, and see if and how it can be countered.” He lifts his eyebrows, as though checking to see if he was understood this time.

“That’s only one reason,” Chloe reminds him.

“Yes, the other reason is you, Ms. Chloe Decker.” His eyes gain a gleam of curiosity now as they focus on her, “My brother says you render the patient vulnerable, and I find myself curious as to _why_.”

“Yeah, well, join the club,” Chloe mutters under her breath. “Even Lucifer doesn’t know why that happens, _I_ certainly don’t. I’ve only even known it about for 8 hours or so.”

“Did your examination tell you anything about his condition, brother?” Amenadiel interjects hopefully.

“My examination told me a great deal, brother. I look forward to noting my observations when I return to the Silver City.” He steps over to the sink in the room and presses the soap dispenser, seeming delighted at the squirt of foam that lands in his palm as he begins washing his hands.

“Is there anything you can do to help him? Can you tell us if Chloe should go to help him begin to heal?”

“I will not risk Father’s ire by helping the fallen one.” Raphael turns off the water and flicks his hands in a practiced motion, removing the excess drops of water clinging to them, and sighs heavily. “But I admit I would be truly interested to see how the removal of the human that causes the patient to become vulnerable will affect his status.”

“Chloe, will you -?” Amenadiel shoots her a pleading look, understanding her irritation but needing his brother’s insight into the situation.

“Fine.” She scoffs. “Let me know when I can come back?” Amenadiel nods in agreement, and she gives Lucifer a long look then turns and storms from the room, Linda trailing silently behind.

“I have no idea how far I need to be,” she mutters to her friend as they walk briskly through the hallways.

“There’s a little park across the street, let’s try there?” Linda suggests quietly.

A few minutes later they make it out to the road when Chloe’s cell rings stridently. It’s Amenadiel.

_“Chloe, come back! Come back now, as fast as you can!”_

“What? But we only just-“

 _“Please, Chloe! He needs you back,_ now!”

Without further thought or argument she turns and bolts back toward the hospital, flinging herself through the motion activated doors almost before they could open and flying through the hallways back toward Lucifer’s room, where a commotion is in full swing. She can hear authoritative voices, and a crowd of people around the doorway which is abruptly parted as a security officer is tossed out of the room like a lawn dart.

“LAPD! Clear the way!” She elbows her way through the gathered bodies with Linda on her heels and encounters Amenadiel taking up far more space than usual, his stance wide, posture threatening the amassed medical staff. Every machine in the room is blaring an ear-splitting alarm, and Lucifer appears to be in a seizure, his entire body tense and shaking, his spine arched and a horrible keening noise erupts from the unattached breathing tube now clenched between his teeth. Chloe is eerily reminded of the long screaming straws that Trixie used to play with endlessly when she was younger. Raphael stands braced next to the bed, his hands held flat over the tremoring body in the bed, a fierce look of concentration on his face. Amenadiel lets her pass, and she approaches the bed, terrified. As she gets closer, the tension slowly bleeds from him, and the excruciating keening noise settles back into the heavy rasp she had noted before.

Raphael holds his stance over Lucifer for another moment before turning to the stunned group of people with hands outspread, and simply says, “Be at peace.”

It’s like magic. Everyone relaxes. The nurses slowly head to the machines, resetting the alarms and checking Lucifer’s connections and tubing, re-attaching the oxygen, the security officers amble away, joking with one another and the doctors all head back to their rounds without a fuss. No one seems to remember the narrowly-averted emergency that had been occurring 30 seconds ago. No one says anything for a long moment, until the nurses finish their checks and wander back to their duties.

“What. The. _Hell_. Was That.” Chloe demands, turning to Raphael and hissing, “What did you do to him?!”

“I did nothing to cause this, Chloe Decker,” he shoots back, affronted. “In fact, I did exactly what I said I would _not_ do, and held him as stable as I could until you could arrive again. I only hope Father will realize that it was merely my instinct to follow my Design.”

“Father doesn’t want Luci dead, Raphael, he will not hold your actions against you,” Amenadiel reassures his brother gravely.

“Okay, so you didn’t do it, but did you see what happened to him?” Linda presses. “We need to get some information if we’re going to be able to help him heal.”

Raphael’s lips thin, but he glances at the figure in the narrow bed with a ghost of concern on his face. “I suppose my Father cannot be too angry if I merely… muse about my findings aloud.”

 _Wow, his family really is a complete bag of dicks,_ Chloe thinks to herself disgustedly, fighting to keep her expression neutral. _No wonder his issues are the size of the freaking solar system._

She steps closer to the bed and pulls out her phone, pulling up the recording app to take down whatever he’ll deign to tell them. She sets it on the bedside tray, and takes Lucifer’s limp hand in her own, feeling the occasional light tremors still coursing through it.

“All right, muse away, _Healer_ ,” she states his title scathingly, and he shoots her an annoyed glance. Amenadiel widens his eyes at her and she understands his silent request to _not_ antagonize the one person- celestial – whatever that might hold the key to helping her partner. She settles her eyes on Lucifer, deliberately not looking at his asshole brother as he begins to speak.

“As I said, this poison is incredibly potent to affect a celestial with such a miniscule exposure. I know that Arael destroyed the plant after distilling a single batch of the poison, but I do not know how it could have wound up here on Earth. I intend to speak with Arael when I return to the Silver City to ensure there are no more vials in his stores, this cannot be allowed to exist, it is far too dangerous. If he knows how it may have wound up on Earth, I will pass along the information to you, Brother.” He nods to Amenadiel, who murmurs a quiet thanks as he continues. “It appears to be targeting the divinity in his blood and, to a lesser extent, the tissues, causing that inflammation- the red marks following the vascular system. Since he is currently unconscious, it’s difficult to say what other effects it may have on other systems- brain function, speaking, hearing, vision. His pupils seem responsive to light, but he is currently heavily affected by the medications that are being administered, so I cannot accurately judge. His healing also seems delayed, but I do not know if that is from the toxin or from the human’s presence.”

“Why did he start seizing when Chloe left?”

“Oh, now _that_ is remarkable, Dr. Linda Martin!” A flash of interest crosses his face, and his tone becomes less clinical, more interested. “Ms. Chloe Decker appears to push the patient’s divinity away when she is near. Or perhaps she suppresses it, it’s difficult to articulate clearly. It’s as though his specific divinity and she are two magnets with identical charges. As she approaches, the other is driven away, repelled. When she retreats, it returns. When she left, Sam- the patient’s divinity began to return to normal levels and the poison immediately targeted it, causing the episode we saw.”

“So,” Amenadiel begins tentatively, “You’re saying Chloe’s makeup is essentially similar enough to Lucifer’s specific divinity that she suppresses or repels it to the point that the poison has _less_ of an effect on him than it would otherwise when she is nearby?”

“Yes!” Raphael beams, “Isn’t that fascinating??”

“Okay, wait just a damn minute,” Chloe pipes up, glaring at the grinning angel. “Why would _my_ makeup be similar enough to Lucifer’s divinity that I make him vulnerable?”

“Oh, dear,” Linda mutters from her corner of the room.

“Because Father planned it that way, of course!” Raphael declares, as though there could be no question. “I’m sure that has something to do with why He sent Amenadiel to place you in this very place, at this very time- as a mitigating force to help keep the fallen one under control! It’s brilliant, really,” he adds as an oblivious aside to his brother, whose face has just gone several shades paler.

Chloe’s face, on the other hand, has just gotten many shades _darker_ , and only the fact that Lucifer can’t afford to have her forcibly removed from this room right now is keeping her from going into a full-on shrieking meltdown. Amenadiel must read some of this on her face, because he quickly interjects.

“Uh, yes, brother, absolutely.” He hurriedly agrees. “Is there anything you can think of for treatment, that we should do for him? In, um, in theory?”

“Human medicine has come along amazingly, they’re doing a quite remarkable job at keeping him alive for the moment. This truly is a fascinating situation, brother, and I thank you for alerting me to it so I may observe.” Chloe makes a noise like an angry cat from the bedside, and he glances at her, puzzled. “If I learn any more about the poison when I return to the City, I may be able to, er, muse over my findings with you again?” He offers tentatively.

“Thank you Raphael, I would greatly appreciate your musings.” Amenadiel quickly ushers him from the room in a glaringly obvious retreat from the furious detective by the bed. He shoots an apologetic look at Linda as he nearly drags his brother from the room, but she doesn’t follow him.

Chloe stands at the bedside for a long moment, listening to their footsteps retreating down the hallway. She continues holding Lucifer’s bandaged hand carefully in hers. She stares blankly down at his form, noting a faint red spot appearing on his hospital gown over the spot where the axe-wound would be- apparently his seizure caused it to re-open a bit. She has enough time to dimly hope that it didn’t do any damage to the internal repairs before two orderlies enter the room, and begin preparing him for travel.

“What’s going on?” Linda inquires, “Where are you taking him?”

One of the orderlies smiles warmly. “Not to worry! He’s got some orders for a quick CT scan, he apparently had a little episode earlier, and we just want to make sure nothing odd is going on inside. Better safe than sorry!”

“Little episode, right,” Chloe mutters under her breath, then she freezes, sharing a panicked look at Linda. “Um… how far is the CT from here? Can I go with him?”

“It’s just the next hallway over, he’ll be back in 15 minutes.”

“Okay… Please, if anything… odd happens, you _have to_ get me to him.” She pleads.

“Of course, everything will be fine, though- you’ll see.” He gives her a gentle pat on the shoulder, guiding her aside so he can unlock the wheels on the bed and snap the guardrail up.

They wheel the bed out the door, and Chloe collapses into the slightly uncomfortable bedside chair with a deep groan. She pulls out her phone- it’s 4 AM, no _wonder_ she’s exhausted. She notices the bevy of missed calls and text notifications and swipes her screen open to start addressing them.

“Do you know what they were talking about, Linda?” she asks, carefully not looking at her friend as she views her missed call log. Several from Dan and Ella, one from Amenadiel around the time they had arrived at the hospital, and two from the LAPD. The text log is longer.

“I know some of it, yes. I’m not sure anyone knows the real truth of it, all they seem to have are theories.”

“Will you tell me?” Her voice is hesitant. “I feel like it’s something I should probably know.”

“Chloe,” Linda tries to prevaricate, “I’m not sure I know the whole story, and I don’t want to give you a partial truth-“

“It sounds like all we _have_ is a partial truth, Linda, and I don’t want to wait for Lucifer to wake to force it out of him.”

Her friend sighs, resigned. “Do you remember when Lucifer left for Vegas, and came back married?”

“Uh, yeah,” A bitter taste fills her mouth and her stomach twists. “That’s kind of a tough one to forget.”

“That’s when he found out about… this, about you being placed here.” Linda explains gently. “He was devastated that his Father had apparently manipulated his feelings, and he thought perhaps had even manipulated yours, toying with your free will to the point where your feelings for one another weren’t real.”

Chloe thinks about this information for a moment, doing some breathing exercises to keep her calm in place. “And he didn’t just tell me about any of this because -?”

“Well,” Linda pulls in a heavy breath, “That’s a very personal question, Chloe, and it’s more about Lucifer’s issues than yours, so it’s not an answer I can provide. But I can ask that you think about his possible reasons for not telling you the entire truth at that point in time. About the things he would have needed to _prove_ to you, then, in order for you to accept them. And how your possible reaction to some of those things that you _do_ now know about may have prompted him to keep his secrets a little while longer?”

Chloe feels an intense wash of shame, and immediately knows that Lucifer has talked to Linda about her reaction to seeing his face. It’s followed by an even more intense wave of guilt, because Linda barely knows half of Chloe’s reaction, since she still hasn’t had a chance to warn Lucifer about Kinley.

_At least we know he shouldn’t have any more of that poison just laying about. It’s not something you pick up at the corner pharmacy._

“You said he recorded a video for you?” Linda pries gently. “Can I see it?”

Chloe fishes Lucifer’s phone out from her pocket, glad for the change of subject. She lets it take the photo of her face, pulls up the gallery and hands the phone over. Linda presses play and Chloe opens her text log and starts responding to the increasingly anxious texts.

She listens to the first video again and the tears start, then Linda moves on the second, and third, going through every one in the gallery. All variations of the same theme, trying to find the right words, the right message. All of them with that underlying despair and misery. Chloe doesn’t bother to try to wipe the tears away, and eventually they stop on their own accord.

The orderlies reappear with Lucifer’s unconscious body and swiftly get all of his bells and whistles reattached and locked in place. Amenadiel returns and settles next to Linda on the tiny couch on the opposite wall from the bed, looking anxiously at Chloe.

She keeps her gaze on Lucifer, but she sees the angel flinch from the corner of her eye when she addresses him. “Can you tell me about this vulnerability thing, Amenadiel?”

“I don’t know all of it, Chloe,” he admits softly. “My Father gave your parents the possibility for one child. I delivered that possibility and they did the rest.”

“Do you know _why_?”

“I’m afraid I don’t. Father doesn’t typically share details of _why_ he chooses to do things.”

“Am I really a… a trap for Lucifer? A leash?”

“I… don’t know.” He sighs quietly. “I don’t believe so. Father gave you immunity to Lucifer’s powers, but that wouldn’t give you any real control over him. It would only… make sure you see him for who he is.” This last bit is stated slowly, as though it’s occurring to him only as he hears himself say it out loud.

By this point it’s after 7 AM, the nurses come in for their rounds and everyone listens carefully as the previous shift updates the new one on Lucifer’s condition, medications and treatments. They pull the stained dressing from his chest wound and Chloe is relieved to see that the neat line of stitches appears days old, the surrounding bruising already creeping to green around the outer edges and the bag siphoning off the blood from his chest cavity holds far less fluid than it has for the past two changes. They replace that dressing with a fresh one and move to the one on his hand. This wound does _not_ appear to be healing well- it is red and angry, the jagged edges still slowly oozing dark blood. The crimson spiderwebbing is ominously crawling further and further, even visibly threading through the bruising around the wound on his chest now. Chloe swallows and looks away as one of the doctors enters the room, reporting the CT scan results as improving, with less blood and air trapped in the chest cavity than the previous scan. They note a slight concern at some anomalies in the musculature and shoulder blades, which Amenadiel waves off as a family trait. Chloe is willing to bet that those results disappear, along with any bloodwork they’ve managed to run on this particular patient.

The doctor examines him and seems pleased with his color and oxygen saturation, and the greater ease with which he is breathing.

“If this rate of improvement continues, we may be able to remove the breathing tube later this evening, and ease up on his sedation.” The doctor gives them an encouraging smile. “We’re still not sure what’s going on with this vasculitis – if that’s what it is – but we’ve got a couple calls in to some specialists in circulatory disorders and toxins.”

“Thank you Doctor, we appreciate your efforts.” Amenadiel affirms earnestly.

“If you guys want to take a break, get some rest – “

“No.” Chloe blurts, and the doctor turns to her, surprised. “I mean, I’ll be staying. With him.”

The doctor turns back to Amenadiel, who nods with a faint smile. The doctor gives a small shrug, asks if they have any more questions, then moves on to the next patient.

Linda had dozed off over an hour ago, and Chloe looks at her with pity. “Amenadiel, why don’t you take her home? I’m staying, obviously, but there’s no reason for the two of you to sleep here as well.”

Linda drifts awake at the sound of Chloe’s voice, and slurs, “ ‘m fine, not tired at all.”

Amenadiel gives Chloe a crooked smile that she returns. “Ella was going to stop in on her way to the office, so I’ll have some company in a bit. Linda, go home, get some rest, you’ve got other patients that need you, too.”

Linda glances sadly at Lucifer, still and pale in the hospital bed, and slowly nods her agreement. Amenadiel gently takes her hand and helps her to her feet and she starts gathering her jacket and bag, slipping her shoes back on.

“I will be back soon, Chloe. After I drop Linda off, I want to do some checking into this Father Kinley.”

Her eyes meet the angel’s, she gives him a somber nod and the name of the church Kinley had stationed himself at. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

“I know.”

Chloe resists cupping her hand against her partner’s face. It feels wrong touching him, knowing that his current situation is 100% her fault. She can’t make herself let go of his hand, though, and she catches her fingers tracing that intricate network of horrible red lines obsessively. Lucifer remains oblivious, pallid and silent, only the slight movement of his chest and the gradually less raspy breathing as indicators that he is, in fact, still alive. The soft beeping of the machines slowly lulls her, and when Ella enters the room with coffee tray and bagels in-hand, she finds Chloe fast asleep, bent double at the side of the bed, her head resting crookedly against Lucifer’s forearm.

She creeps nearer to the bed, looking sadly at her devilish friend. Chloe had updated her on his condition, but Ella hadn’t been prepared for _seeing_ him like this. It feels wrong, he looks so small surrounded by all these machines, the hollows under his eyes sunken and shadowed. Most people look younger when they’re sleeping, but watching him, Ella thinks there’s something about him now that makes him appear ancient and ageless, like the devil he claims to be. Her breath catches in her throat and she shakes her head at her wandering thoughts. She looks again, and he just looks like Lucifer. She’s seen him look worse than this… like that time he gave up sleeping for a couple weeks, or with that sniper case where Chloe kept yelling at him because he seemed totally strung out. _If an axe-wound to the chest doesn’t give you an excuse to look unwell, then I don’t know what does._

Her trained eye picks out the tracery of veins on the arm that Chloe’s resting on, then spies it further on his throat and in places around his face.

_Oh, that’s a creepy development. It looks kinda like that weird darkness-zombie infection thing from Supernatural… But at least it’s not black like that one was… and Lucifer doesn’t seem like he’s gonna go zombie._

Once her superficial exam is complete, she settles on the little couch, quietly slurping her coffee and munching on her bagel. She smiles to herself as her eyes linger on Chloe’s hand, still lightly wrapped around Lucifer’s bandaged one as she snores against his arm. She truly hopes these two get over whatever their current hangups are soon. She may have gotten a bit overzealous when Chloe went after Pierce, but she has _always_ believed that these two were just… meant to be.

About an hour later, Chloe stirs and sits up, grimacing as she stretches her back and shoulders, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth. She freezes for a moment when she notices Ella grinning at her from the couch, her face flushing.

“How badly was I snoring?” she asks with a wince.

“Like a sailor on a 3-day shore leave,” Ella quips, giggling. I’m surprised Lucifer didn’t wake up and pull his pillow over your head.”

“He might have, if he weren’t so heavily sedated,” Chloe chuckles, running her eyes across her partner.

“How’s he looking? Y’know, compared to before?” Ella ventures.

“Better in some ways… not so much in others.”

“The veiny thing?”

“Yeah, that’s definitely in the ‘not so much’ category. The axe-wound, his breathing, and the blood in his chest cavity are all improving pretty well. But the other thing… It scares me, Ella.”

“Do they know what it is yet?”

“No one knows what it is, or really what it’s doing to him.” Chloe rubs her red-rimmed eyes in exhaustion and stifles a yawn. “Whatever it is, it’s really bad.”

“Chloe, go home. Get some rest, girl.”

“I can’t go home, Ella, I can’t leave him here.” Chloe yawns. “I just need some sleep. Or caffeine.”

“Well, I brought you some caffeine,” Ella gestures at the paper cup in the tray by her feet, “But I think you might benefit from some actual shut-eye right about now. Look, I took the morning off. Switch me seats, catch some z’s, and I’ll take over looking after our devil for a little while, okay?”

Chloe looks from Lucifer to Ella, and back again. Her concern is written plainly on her face.

“C’mon Decker, I _promise_ to wake you if anything at all looks hinky.”

The promise of sleep is too strong for her to pass up, and she finally relents. Ella springs up from the couch and rustles a thin pillow and a scratchy blanket from the nurses at the station down the hall, and Chloe is asleep nearly the moment she’s horizontal. Ella pats her head gently with a soft sigh, and parks herself in the unyielding chair at the side of the bed, keeping vigil.

Some time later, a soft knock on the door makes Ella look up from her perusal of the monitors that surround her friend. She smiles at the newcomer.

“Good morning,” he greets softly, his kind blue eyes darting to the sleeper on the couch. “My name is Father Kinley. Would you mind if I visit?”


	5. Just a Crazy Club Owner. Slash Method Actor.

“Oh, hey Father!” Ella stands up and ushers him out into the hallway. “I’m Ella. Sorry, I don’t want to wake my friend in there by chatting away, she’s had a super-rough couple of days.”

“That’s quite all right my child,” he keeps his voice considerately low. “I was merely making my normal rounds and saw we had a most unusual name on our roster today.”

“Ah, yeah, my buddy Lucifer’s having an even rougher time than Chloe has been,” Ella confides, “it was really touch and go for him for a while yesterday.”

“Do you think it would be all right if I went in quickly, just to pray over him?” His voice is full of concern.

“Ya know, if you want to pray for him, I think he’d say that’s entirely up to you. I used to all the time, but I didn’t tell him about it, because dude has some _serious_ issues with the Big Guy.” Ella chuckles lightly, “He might be _the_ most hard-core method actor out there, but he’s always been supportive of me with my faith. He even let me drag him to church once… even if he _did_ spend most of time hitting on the divorcees.”

“You… took this man to church with you? You pray for him?” The priest clarifies, looking appalled.

“Oh, yeah. Well, I used to. Me and the Big Guy, we’re kind of on a break right now, some stuff happened. But yeah, about church… He needed a favor, and that was my condition.” Ella laughs again, “I told him, he just seemed like he was… looking for something, a connection. I thought church might help him find that, but it didn’t take.” She shakes her head, going back to his original question. “I wouldn’t be comfortable giving you permission to go in and pray over him though, not while he’s unconscious. He’s super-big on the whole free-will thing, and that would feel a little too… I dunno. Something. Wrong, I guess.”

“Well, Ella, I certainly wouldn't want to make him uncomfortable.” The priest takes a casual step back, preparing to leave. “I would love to speak more with you about your faith, if you have some free time later? Perhaps we could meet in the chapel here at the hospital?”

“I’m always up for talking faith with a Father!” Ella jokes cheerfully. “I’ll come look you up once Chloe’s up and at ‘em.”

“I look forward to it, Miss Lopez.” The priest gives her a warm smile and a deep nod, and paces away down the hallway. Ella looks after him, puzzled.

_That’s weird… I don’t think I gave him my last name. Hmm._

She settles back into the rigid chair beside the bed, thinking over her conversation with the priest. She’s _sure_ she didn’t give him her last name. She checks her outfit, making sure she isn’t wearing a forensics jacket with her name anywhere, but nope. She wracks her brain, she’s positive she’s never seen this guy before. Her eyes flicker across Lucifer, who stirs weakly as he sleeps. She leans forward, it’s the first movement she’s seen from him, other than breathing. She reaches out and lightly brushes back some of the curly hair that’s fallen down over his forehead. He feels warm to the touch.

 _I mean, he always feels warm, dude’s like a space heater, but… this feels warm even for him_. She glances up at the monitors, but no body temperature readout. The nurses must be monitoring manually when they do their checks. She glances at the board, it’s half past 10, someone should be in within the hour. She debates heading out to the nurse’s station, but she glances at the door, feeling unsettled. She considers using the call button, but it’s probably not an emergency, so she decides to wait it out. Sure enough, a nurse comes in just a little past 11 and Ella raises her concerns about his temperature. The nurse checks his chart and notes that his body temperature has been elevated since he arrived, but the fluids and medications have been keeping it from elevating further and it hasn’t seemed to affect him negatively. She goes to check it, and the thermometer won’t read anything but an error. The nurse switches the sterile cap and tries her own temperature, which reads fine. She swaps out a new thermometer and tries Lucifer again, error.

“Well, shit,” she mumbles under her breath, and pulls her phone from her pocket. “Hey Suze, yeah, the Morningstar patient? Yeah, the one with the axe. He’s running a fever that the thermometer won’t register, but he’s not showing other signs of fever, no sweating, flushing, delirium… Of course I tried another thermometer, what am I, Frannie First-Year? Yeah. All right, page ‘em.”

Ella pulls away from the bed to let the nurse do her job, checking his drainage bag, IV feed. She parts the hospital gown and removes the dressing after warning Ella what she was about to do, but the wound is clean. The bruising looks a week old, and the wound is scabbed, but looks nearly that. The drainage bag holds no indications of infection and the drain placement site shows no signs of swelling or pus. When the nurse removes the bandage on his hand, the problem is evident. The jagged wound on the fleshy pad where his thumb meets his hand is fire-engine red and angry-looking. The thumb itself is stiff and not easily moved, and the swelling has started to balloon up the arm toward the elbow. Ella turns when she hears a soft gasp behind her. Chloe’s eyes are open, and glued to the wound in horror.

“That did not look like that this morning. It was a little red and puffy, and still oozing some dark blood, but.. but _nothing_ like that.”

“That’s what the file says, too.” The nurse agrees. “The doc’ll probably switch to a stronger antibiotic and get this back under control.”

“Yeah. I’m sure that’ll do it,” Chloe agrees faintly, sharing a worried glance with Ella.

A doctor bustles in and double checks everything, makes some notes, and bustles back out to order some more tests. A few minutes later, she returns to speak to Chloe. “His breathing is much better, and we haven’t gotten anything really measurable from his drain for the past several hours, so we’re going to pull the drain and the tracheal tube soon. Once those are out, we can wean him off the sedation. I’ve also added a broad-spectrum antibiotic to his IV drip to help combat whatever’s going on in his hand. Maybe once he’s awake we can figure out more about how this toxin is affecting him.”

“Okay,” Chloe nods absently, “I’ll let his brother know.”

The doctor takes a final look at her patient, gives the two women a friendly nod, and leaves the room.

“All right, Decker, spill.” Ella orders, “You know more than what you’re saying.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Chloe dissembles, but Ella’s having none of it.

“None of that _mierda_ , sister. We’re tribe, and you _know_ something. Out with it.” Ella glares at her, “He’s my friend, too.”

“Ella…” Chloe pleads, “I… I can’t. You, you won’t believe it, Hell _I_ barely believe it, and it’s partly not even _my_ story to tell-“

“Nope.” Ella shakes her head vehemently, “Nope, no way, not a chance. You don’t get to pull that crap- I told you _my_ biggest secret, and you accepted me anyway. Now _spill._ ”

Chloe sighs, defeated. “You know how Lucifer never lies?”

“Right. Total truth-speaker. Except for bluffing, and omission, and obfuscation.”

“And… you know how Lucifer says he’s the devil?” Chloe ventures.

“Yeah, I was just talking about his bad-ass method acting skills a few minutes ago with this-“ Ella trials off as Chloe stares hard at her, eyebrows raised. “What?”

“So… Lucifer doesn’t lie.”

“Yeah, we covered that.”

“And, he says he’s the devil.”

“Okaaay.” Ella looks at her sideways. “What, you’re saying that Lucifer, _our Lucifer_ , the guy conked out in the bed over there, is _actually_ THE Lucifer, the fallen angel, the devil?”

Chloe nods slowly, watching her friend closely. Ella’s expression morphs from puzzlement to disbelief, to slowly dawning anger.

“Decker, I can’t _believe_ you are making fun of me right now.” Her voice is quiet, but furious, and she’s gathering steam. “I thought we were friends, but if you… if you’re just gonna use _this_ situation to make fun of me for being a crazy person- “

“Ella, no!” Chloe begs desperately, “I would never do that! He really _is_ , and that’s the whole base for what’s happening here so I need you to believe it!”

“She’s not lying, Lopez,” comes new voice from the bedside, and both women whirl to meet it.

“Rae-Rae?” Ella breathes, the anger bleeding from her as she notices her friend. She catches Chloe’s expression next to her. “Wait. Chloe, can you _see_ her?”

Chloe nods, taking in the new occupant of the room. A petite woman with vaguely Eastern features, girlish, with a dark bob haircut and enormous glasses. An outfit worthy of Ella’s closet complete with tall socks and funky sneakers. _So this is Ella’s ghost friend?_

“Rae-Rae, what are you doing here?”

“I’m… well, I’m visiting my favorite big brother.”

“Your _brother_ is here?” Ella gasps. “Do you need me to take him a message? Is he sick?”

“He’s sick, all right,” The little woman looks sadly at the figure in the bed and sighs.

“Wait. Okay. Just… Shut the front door!” Ella exclaims. “Chloe, you can _see_ her. And she says you’re not lying about Lucifer being the devil.” Her hands go to her head, her eyes wide as she struggles to fit the puzzle together. Rae-Rae reaches to take Lucifer’s uninjured hand in hers, eyes wandering over his pallid face.

“Rae-Rae… is Lucifer your brother?” Ella asks quietly.

“Not just my brother, my _favorite_ brother. We have… a lot of siblings.”

“Okay. Okay. If he’s the devil, and he’s your brother, then you’re…”

“Not a ghost.”

“Right.” She looks at her hand, holding Lucifer’s. “Obviously not a ghost.”

“Lu is the devil,” She looks up at her friend and smiles hesitantly, then shifts her gaze to Chloe. “Hi, I’m Azrael. Angel of Death, at your service.”

Ella’s jaw drops, and she sags bonelessly back onto the tiny couch. Chloe spares her a glance, but she’s distracted by the tightening of her chest.

“You’re not… here to _take_ him?” She pleads

“No, not right now.” She glances back at her unnaturally silent sibling, eyes shining with tears. “But Chloe, he’s not good. It’s not off the table, okay?”

“Do you have a way to help him?” Chloe presses hopefully, but the hope withers and dies as the tiny woman shakes her head morosely.

“I only know he’s here because I ran into Raphael while I was dropping off some souls at the Silver City. He was all agitated about his visit to Earth and this new poison and the effect it has on celestials, and I know Lu and Amenadiel are the only two down here… and no one would bother going after Amenadiel, he doesn’t have the notoriety that Lu does.”

“Notoriety?” Ella croaks, having come back to herself enough to start following the conversation. “Why would anyone go after Lucifer? As far as the world knows, he’s just a crazy club owner. Slash method actor…”

“He _is_ the devil, Lopez, and he hasn’t made a secret of that fact. Some folks somewhere were bound to start believing him.”

“And they did,” Chloe confirms. “This is my fault. This… this entire damned situation is _all my fault._ ”

“Oh?” Azrael narrows her gaze on the detective. “Tell me. Everything.”

So Chloe tells her story for the second time in as many days, this time to a slightly less sympathetic audience. Azrael has no problems blaming Chloe for targeting her favorite brother, but she’s also fair enough to acknowledge that she had changed her mind and was actively working to try to make up for her lapse in judgement.

Ella listens to Chloe’s story with a burgeoning sensation of horror. Her mind travels back to the crime scene photographs of the loft with Pierce, the blood-spattered feathers, all the spent bullet casings… She gazes at the motionless figure in the bed, and tries to picture the face that Chloe describes, but she doesn’t feel fear, only a deep, tugging sadness as she imagines the pale skin covered in craggy burned tissue. She wonders if it hurts. Chloe talks about going to Rome to research, and Ella sympathizes with the idea, but – something feels wrong about it.

When Chloe mentions the priest, something tingles in Ella’s brain, but she puts it aside and lets her friend finish her confession.

Because it _is_ a confession. Chloe lays out all her actions, her thoughts and worries and fears, then her realizations once she had returned to LA and how she had changed her mind about cooperating. Then about her plan to come clean to Lucifer, suspecting that the glass had been poisoned anyway, and saving Lucifer from drinking it only for him to cut himself with the tainted glass. Azrael becomes more agitated as the story concludes.

“I never should have let that vial out of my sight, but I had no idea Kinley would have followed me, or was he waiting there…?”

“Kinley?” Ella interrupts, suddenly frantic. “That’s the priest?”

“Yeah, he-“

“Chloe- he’s _here!”_ Ella cuts in, “He’s in the hospital!”

 _“What?”_ Chloe snarls, pulling out her phone and texting Amenadiel. “Where? Amenadiel was going to look for him after he dropped Linda off at home.”

“I saw him a little over an hour ago, he knocked while you were asleep and asked if he could come in to pray for- Oh my God. He was totally going to try to finish what he started. He asked me if I’d meet him in the chapel later, to discuss my faith.”

“I just let Amenadiel know he’s here, I should call the precinct and have them send backup, I don’t have my cuffs on me-“

“Do we have proof? Where’s the vial?” Ella asks urgently.

“We- oh, no. I gave the vial to the hospital, and when they couldn’t identify it, Amenadiel took it to Raphael to see if he could identify it. He’s got it now.”

“So we only have your word against his, then…”

“Shit. Should we try to detain him? Where is the chapel?”

“I saw it on the way in, it’s just past the entrance, why?”

“That’s too far, I’ll have to either call for backup or wait for Amenadiel.”

“What do you mean, too far? It’s like a five-minute walk?”

“Yeah, there’s… more to it.” Chloe sinks down onto the couch next to her friend. “I, um, apparently have an effect on Lucifer.”

“Uh, yeah _chica_ , anyone with _eyes_ can see that.” Ella smirks, “Guy has it bad for you.”

“No, I mean,” Chloe rakes her face with her fingers, “Oh, God, I don’t know what I mean. I make him… he can be hurt when he’s around me. Like, physically vulnerable.”

“Then why are you still here?” Ella asks sensibly. “If you leave, will he get better?”

“We tried that while Raphael was here,” Chloe admits, “It didn’t go well, he had a seizure and it only stopped when I came back. The poison is apparently from Heaven, and it’s targeting his divinity, according to Lucifer’s asshole of a healer brother.” Chloe suddenly remembers another angel is in the room and shoots an apologetic look at Azrael… but she isn’t there. “Um, Ella? Where did your friend go?”

“I don’t know… I’m gonna need to have a talk with her later. But for now… _we_ need to have a talk.” Ella levels a glare at her friend. “Really? You go halfway across the world to do research and the first place you approach is the one with the biggest bias _against_ your subject?”

Chloe stares at her with wide eyes, and a deep flush creeps up her neck to her face. “I… that didn’t even occur to me until later. I just thought… who would know more about the devil than the Catholic Church?”

“You did have access to one of his brothers, who is an angel, and might have another viewpoint? Did you look at _any_ other sources?”

“No,” Chloe admits, ashamed, watching Lucifer breathe. “I was terrified, Ella. I needed to get away, and when I wound up in Europe it seemed the most reasonable place to go.”

“Oh, I understand being afraid. I’m probably gonna have my own little meltdown here once we’re past this crisis point. But Chloe, you’re a _detective_. You’re not even religious! What was it that scared you so badly you were willing to go after Lucifer??” Her friend probes. “Did he do something to you?”

“No!” Chloe protests, “Nothing like that- in fact, now that I’ve had time to really think about it, I’m nearly positive he saved my life – more than once, actually. It’s just, this is really personal. It’s not… it’s not _him_ , now. It’s… it’s _everything_ else. Ella it’s all _real_.”

Ella’s dark eyes regard her compassionately. “So, you saw the devil’s face and suddenly believed in the Devil, God, Heaven, Hell, and everything in between, and it got a little overwhelming?”

“A little,” Chloe admits with a watery laugh. “I was… I was falling in love with him, Ella. And, and after Dan, and Pierce, and now this- I don’t have the slightest idea how to handle any of this. It’s too much.”

“You handle it the same way everyone else does- one thing at a time, and with a little help from your friends.” Ella reaches out and pats her shoulder. “I’m not gonna lie to you, I am totally _not_ okay with how you handled your reaction past your initial freak-out. So we’re going to have to talk that out some more before I really trust you again with my friend in the bed over there. But I _do_ trust that you’ve got your head back on straight now.

“Ella, thank you,” Chloe’s shoulders slump in shame and relief. “I don’t want anything to happen to him. I just need some time, and… and I hope he can forgive me but I really don’t see how he _could._ ”

“It’s a tough one, Decker, that’s for sure.” Ella’s tone is wry. “I’m gonna call the precinct and let them know I’m out for the day. I can’t go in after this, and I don’t wanna leave him here with that priest on the loose.”

As Ella steps out the door, she’s passed by the doctor and a couple of nurses coming in to remove the drain and breathing tubes. They ask Chloe to step out of the room, and she joins her friend in the hallway until they finish. Ella gives a brief update to the lieutenant on Lucifer’s condition and gets the rest of the day off, then announces she’s going to get more coffee for the both of them, which Chloe gratefully accepts.

The door opens about 10 minutes later. Ella hasn’t returned yet, which means she’s either still searching for some caffeine, or she started talking to a random someone and got a bit sidetracked, so Chloe re-enters the room. Dr. Denton gives her a briefing of the removal process and advises her that they’ve started weaning the sedative.

“At the rate Mr. Morningstar has been burning the sedative off, he may start to wake sooner rather than later. His fever is still high, and he’ll probably be disoriented, so we’re considering restraining him to avoid injury-“

Chloe has a vivid flash of red eyes and an inhuman roar, a sparking, leaning light pole, and an SUV with smoking tires. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, he’s not likely to respond well to restraint. He’s much stronger than he looks, and he’s crazy good at slipping them.”

The doctor looks at her dubiously. “She’s right,” comes Ella’s voice from the doorway. “He’s a regular Houdini. Double-jointed, can get out of _anything_.”

“Hopefully he’ll wake smoothly then, but if he’s a danger to himself or others, we’ll have to make a decision.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Amenadiel’s mellow voice drifts into the room from behind Ella, making her jump. “We’ll see that he’s not a danger.”

Dr. Denton looks at her patient once more and shakes her head in resignation. “We’ll check in again soon,” she warns, closing the door as she leaves.

“Where is the priest, Chloe?” Amenadiel doesn’t waste any time with pleasantries.

“Ella says he asked to meet her in the hospital chapel-“ Chloe stops talking, because the angel is gone. Ella looks at her in awe.

“That. Was SO. COOL.”

*************************

The hospital chapel is dim, illuminated primarily with light shining through the stained glass windows. Father Kinley finds the dim lighting to his liking, reminding him of the hallowed libraries of the Vatican. He feels comfortable here, despite the fact that the Devil sleeps 3 floors up and a building-length away.

His plan is nearly complete. He succeeded in introducing the poison, even without the Decker woman’s help. Now he needs only to complete the ritual. He hadn’t intended a hospital to be the location for it, but it could fit the requirements as well as the other. A place of worship, the chapel here. A den of sin, how many sinners are treated here on a regular basis? It will do for his purposes.

He sits in a pew toward the back of the chapel, reflecting on his plan and praying for success. A young woman enters the chapel, head bowed and shoulders slumped. She seats herself at the front of room, and leans forward.

It is not the Lopez woman, but he feels the need to go and speak to her, so he walks up the aisle and seats himself at her side.

“Welcome, child,” he murmurs. “What sorrows bring you to the House of God this day?”

“A great evil has been wrought upon my brother, and I want the perpetrator to be punished.”

“Have the police found them yet?”

“Not yet, but they know where he is.”

“Then you can rest easy that justice will be done. Is your brother recovering?”

“He is trying, but the foul thing that attacked him used a poison that is yet to be identified or countered.”

“A great evil, indeed. The punishment will be great.”

“Oh, it will.”

“What is your brother’s name? I will pray for him.”

“His name is Lucifer Morningstar. But I think perhaps your prayers may be wasted.”

Kinley’s mouth runs dry and he slowly turns his head toward the young woman next to him, who is no more. In her place is a shifting, shadowy spectre with glowing silver eyes in a bone-white face. Wispy, twilight-colored wings spread behind her, paying no attention to the fact that they seem to be protruding from her back and extending _through_ the pew behind her.

“Who are you?” he rasps, eyes widening in terror.

“I am Azrael, Angel of Death, Courier of Souls, and I am sister to Lucifer, the Lightbringer.” Her sepulchral voice echoes emptily as though from the deepest tomb, bringing with it the ancient memory of dust and decay, of earth and corruption and moisture. It lowers further, as though it emanates directly from the bowels of Hell as she continues, “And you, _priest_ , will tell me where you procured that poison.”

A little while later, Amenadiel stalks into the chapel, stopping short when he sees the two forms seated in the front pew. One of them is rocking, muttering quietly nonstop. He relaxes, and continues his approach.

“Hello Azrael.”

“Hey, bro.” She looks up at him, swinging her feet.

“What did you do to him?”

“Nothing Uriel didn’t do first.” She replies bitterly. “Well, almost nothing.”

“Rae, did you let him _see_ you?”

“Yep.” There’s no trace of contrition in her voice, and she cheerfully pops the ‘p’ sound. “He’ll be almost fine in a few weeks. He’ll be fit enough to give a confession in a few hours. A day at most.”

“So, Uriel?”

“Yeah,” she replies darkly. “Showed up in the library at the Vatican, wings out, vial in hand with a nice little “prophecy” for our psycho priest here.”

“Uriel wasn’t in charge of prophecy.”

“ _We_ know that.” Azrael points out, “But apparently humans don’t.”

Amenadiel sighs. “Is there any more of it?”

“He said Uri only gave him the single bottle.” 

“Well, that’s something. But it doesn’t really help us with Luci.” He glares at the gibbering priest with disgust. “What are we going to do with him until he’s fit to confess?”

“Well, it’s pretty clear he’s not going anywhere. I’ll wait here with him. Is Ella still with Lu?” Amenadiel nods and she continues. “Send Ella to me, I can give her everything he told me and she can pass it on the cops. I have a feeling she’s gonna have a few words for me anyway.” Her eyes flicker down to her tennis shoes and back up to her brother.

“Been making friends, Rae?” Amenadiel asks, amused.

“Only the one.” She gives him her best puppy eyes, and he laughs, holding his hands up in surrender.

“No judgement, little sister, I’ve made my share of human friends.” He sobers, and glances at the priest before looking back to his sister. “In fact, I just found out… well. I’m going to be a father.”

“You what!?” Azrael’s jaw drops in surprise. “How is that possible?”

“I don’t know, Rae,” he shakes his head, a slow smile lighting his face, “I only know that it _is._ ”

“Wow.” She stares at him. “Congratulations?”

“Thanks, Rae,” he chuckles. “It’ll be an adventure. But I suppose we should start by settling this.”

“Yeah. I’ll wait here for Ella.”

*******************************

It’s barely been twenty minutes since Lucifer’s sedatives have been decreased, and he’s starting to stir. Just tiny movements, little twitches. His skin feels even warmer now, and while his breathing is no longer labored, occasionally he emits a high-pitched whine, usually accompanied by short bouts of trembling.

Chloe stays close, and talks to him throughout these little episodes. She’s not sure, but it seems to help, he tilts his head toward her voice, and he settles when her hand touches the heated skin of his face.

Ella sits on the couch and watches the interaction. So many questions are jostling for space in her head right now, but she knows it’s neither the time nor the place. Not with Lucifer in this condition. And what on Earth had Chloe been thinking, going along with this priest?? Well, that one’s an easy answer: She hadn’t been. She hadn’t thought, she’d only reacted, then _kept_ reacting… _badly_. Ella can understand that, hasn’t she been doing the same thing while she’s been taking her break from her faith? Granted, her bad choices included too much tequila and hangovers rather than plotting exorcisms and/or possible murder … but she wasn’t also having to deal with multiple life-changing crises at once, either. Would Lucifer forgive her? He really didn’t seem to hold grudges… except for his Dad.

 _I guess I’d probably have a pretty bitter taste in my mouth if I was thrown into Hell and left there for literally eons._ Talk about sympathy for the devil.

Amenadiel re-enters the room then, and she focuses her gaze on him. _A real angel!_ She feels excitement bubbling up inside her, but manages to tamp it down as he turns to her.

“My sister is in the chapel with the priest. He is… incommunicative at the moment, but Azrael is confident he will be able to provide a full confession in a day or so. We are unsure what to do with him in the meantime… he is no danger currently, but is not quite… himself. She suggested that you may be able to take her statement and make suggestions, Ella?”

“Oh, I’m not really a cop, I just, uh… Yeah. You know, I can call the precinct and have them send an officer over, let them know we got the guy that poisoned our consultant. I can talk to Rae-Rae and wait there until someone comes to get him, sure!” Her smile is probably just a little too big, but Amenadiel doesn’t remark on it, simply taking her at her word. She pulls out her phone and stops by Lucifer’s left side, reaching out and patting his hand. “Wake up soon, buddy, okay? I’ve got a million questions for you! Chloe, I’ll be back, okay? I’ve got my phone if you need something.”

Chloe nods, giving her friend a small smile as she heads out the door, already dialing the LAPD dispatch. She glances at Amenadiel, who is watching his brother’s slight stirrings with a creased brow.

“So Kinley isn’t quite himself?”

“No… Azrael let him see her.”

“She - ?” Chloe’s eyes grow wide, glancing at Lucifer and back to Amenadiel. “Does she have a face like -? Do you all have another face?”

“No, Chloe. This is the way we _are_ , the way our parents created us.” His lip twitches up at the corner. “Azrael’s other aspects are typically only seen by souls she is transporting, and her appearance to those souls is based on their final destination.”

“So, for someone like Kinley?”

“It would not be a pleasant sight, no.”

Chloe pauses for a moment. “Good,” she hisses vehemently. Amenadiel’s lip curves a little more.

“You know, you and my brother seem to have a lot in common – you’re both punishers at heart.”

“I-“ Chloe looks up, startled. “I guess we are. It’s why I became a cop, justice is important. People need to be held accountable for their actions.”

“It is,” Amenadiel agrees. “That is something that Lucifer also feels strongly about.”

“Oh,” Chloe’s face suddenly falls. “Amenadiel, he’s never going to forgive me for this.”

“I can’t tell you if he will or won’t, Chloe.” Amenadiel chides gently. “I know he cares for you greatly, but what you did, what you _tried_ to do… it’s going to crush him.” He watches the form in the bed, expressive eyes heavy with sadness. “He needs you to stay close to him until this poison runs its course, or until we can figure out how to counteract it. Perhaps… perhaps that will give you the time you need to earn some of trust back, if that is what you truly wish.”

“Of _course_ it is!” she flares. “I know this is my fault, and I would give anything to fix it!”

“I understand you want to fix your mistake, Chloe,” his voice still quiet, but with underlying steel. “But are you sure you want him, us, _this_ in your life after this is over? You could just get him through it, then make a clean break. You said you were terrified, earlier.”

“I _am_ terrified,” she admits again, contrite. “But not of him. I _know_ him… I finally figured that out. What scares me is… how much _bigger_ the world just got. I mean – all of it!”

He chuckles softly. “Yes, I’m aware. Linda went through a very similar situation. I’m sure she would be glad to speak with you about it.”

“I think I’d like that.” Her smile is tentative, and he returns it.

Lucifer stirs suddenly in the bed, and groans, thrashing his head back and forth. His brother stands and drifts to his left side, since Chloe still occupies the right. He’s muttering faintly, and they lean closer, trying to understand.

“Burns,” he’s whispering, and his voice is dry, cracking like mud left to bake in the sun. “Father, why… ‘m not healing. Help me…”

“Luci?” Amenadiel places a careful hand on his brother’s shoulder, giving a gentle shake. “Easy, brother, you’re… ill. We’re working on finding a way to help.”

“It burns,” he whimpers, trying to curl in on himself. Abruptly his arms are thrown out and down, fingers splayed wide as though he’s performing jazz hands. His head slams back against the pillow and his back arches with a keening wail, _“It burns!”_

His eyelids fly open and they flare a blazing, blinding white until the wail suddenly cuts off and he collapses bonelessly back to the bed in the ringing silence left behind. Chloe’s stunned gaze meets Amenadiel’s, multicolored spots dancing in the air between them.

“Well,” he announces wryly, his voice nearly drowned out by the frantic beeping of the monitors, “that’s new.”


	6. Like a Bob on a Log

“Rae- Rae?” Ella calls quietly as she enters the chapel.

“We’re back here,” her friend calls cheerfully, “in the office!”

Ella creeps through the empty chapel, following the susurration of barely audible mumbling to where her friend sits in a wheeled office chair, idly spinning behind the desk. She looks toward the source of the sound and sees Kinley sitting against a bookshelf, knees drawn up to his chest, hands clasped in front of him.

“What happened to him?” Ella asks cautiously.

“He got a view of what’s waiting for him when he dies.”

“Is death so terrifying?”

“For him? Oh yeah, big time. Not so for everyone, though.”

“Oh.” Ella looks at the priest again and feels a flash of pity stir in her stomach. Then she thinks of Lucifer, quietly burning in his hospital bed and the pity washes away in a wave of righteous anger. “He should have thought of that before he went around poisoning people.” She looks over at her friend, who has stopped spinning and is watching her with a proud smile.

“You’re a rare one, Lopez,” Azrael praises. “I know you’ve got loads of questions for me, but I really shouldn’t be here when your police buddies show up. I’m already bending the rules _way_ more than I should by letting Chloe see me, and I don’t have an official human ID like my brothers do…”

“Yeah, okay, you’re right. Tell me what he told you.” Ella takes out a notepad and pen. “But we are _talking_ about this later, alright?”

“You got it, Ella. I’ll be around.”

**********************

The flurry of doctors and nurses that responded to the cacophony of alarms from the attending machines have trickled out of the room again, leaving Amenadiel and Chloe to anxiously watch over their charge. After Chloe dozes off and nearly falls out of the bedside chair- twice- Amenadiel finally coaxes her into taking another nap on the couch. Once she’s lying down she doesn’t so much fall asleep as pass out cold. Ella returns to the room a couple hours later to find Chloe snoring on the couch, and Amenadiel hunched morosely in the chair next to the bed.

“Kinley has been booked in for a 72-hour psych hold, so hopefully he’ll come around enough for him to give his confession before then.” She keeps her voice low, and Amenadiel nods his thanks to the young woman. She hesitates for a moment, then continues. “Rae-Rae said one of your brothers gave him the poison, and some bogus prophecy…?”

“Yes,” Amenadiel confirms sadly. “It seems our brother Uriel truly had it in for Lucifer, if he put this safeguard into place so many years ago.”

“Do we need to worry about him coming after him now?” Ella worries.

“No. Uriel has been dead for over a year now, he is no further danger, unless he planted other plots waiting to flower.”

“Big planner, was he?”

“Uriel could see patterns. You’re familiar with adage of the butterfly flapping its wings and creating a storm?” Ella nods. “Uriel could _see_ those steps, and cause the butterfly to flap here versus there to manipulate a single leaf to block a drain so it would wash out a particular bridge and cause a vehicular accident that could save the life of a squirrel crossing the road at the wrong time.”

“Are jaywalking squirrels something that angels typically worry about?”

“What? No, he-“ Amenadiel looks up and notices Ella smirking at him, and his face relaxes into a small smile. “You understand what I’m saying?”

“Yeah, I get it. Uriel was the Rube Goldberg of the family.” The smirk falls from her face. “I… didn’t think angels could die?”

“Typically, you’d be correct. Mortal weapons don’t have an effect on us,” He glances at his unconscious brother, sadness crossing his broad features. “Usually, anyway. But celestial weapons can kill us. Uriel’s fate was unique, even for an angel.”

“You don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to,” Ella reassures him. “It must be hard, losing a sibling. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to one of my idiots. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, Ella,” he smiles at her kindly. “Knowing now that he set this all in motion all those years ago, I think Uriel’s fate was probably the kindest thing for him. I had thought our inability to reason with him was simply a matter of his concern over our mother’s freedom from Hell, but clearly his loss of reason goes back much further if he gave that vial and false prophecy to Kinley decades ago. Luci was right, he had gone insane.”

Ella decides not to pursue the question of the Mother of Angels for now. “So, uh, how is Lucifer doing?”

“We had a little excitement just after you left, but he seems to have settled for now. He’s been resting peacefully since.”

“What constitutes ‘a little excitement’ on the scale of celestial poisonings?” She wonders.

“The medical staff weren’t really sure. Possibly delirium from the fever. They’ve added cooling packs around him now, and for his fluids. He kept repeating that he was burning, and called out for help, and our Father. Then his eyes glowed white- then collapsed again, as you see.”

“That’s a _little_ excitement?” Ella’s eyes are wide, and Amenadiel shrugs. She shakes her head and casts around for a new subject. Her stomach growls. “Have you guys eaten anything?”

He glances at Chloe, and shakes his head. Ella whips out her phone. “Well, I am fixing that _right now_. Uber Eats, here we come…”

Chloe does not wake for dinner, and Ella leaves shortly afterward, with a promise to return the next evening after work. Amenadiel keeps vigil over his motionless brother and thinks about his next course of action. The need to remove Lucifer from the hospital is getting critical- all of his scans and tests will need to be removed and destroyed to make sure there is no proof of divinity for humans to uncover further. He sits, and thinks, and the plan slowly comes together in his mind.

When Chloe jolts awake a few hours later, the nurses are in the room for their evening rounds. The medical staff have given up trying to put a degree on Lucifer’s fever, instead using Amenadiel’s resting temperature as a basis of “normal”. They replace the cooling packs around Lucifer’s body, redress the still-angry wound on his hand, and give a basic update to the new shift (and, by default, the two interested visitors also present). When they leave, Amenadiel shares his idea. When he finishes, her eyes are narrowed in thought.

“So basically, we need to break him out of the hospital that’s trying to keep him alive so humans don’t get proof angels exist?”

“That’s part of it. The other part of it is that we don’t know what this poison is doing to him, or how he’s going to respond until it’s run its course. What if his wings manifest? Divinity does strange things to people, Chloe, you saw a tiny bit of its aftermath in Kinley’s fanaticism. We need to safeguard against that. I can get Raphael to come and have him discharged, an ambulance service to remove him to one of his estates, and a visiting nurse service to take care of maintaining his care. I won’t make you stay with him, Chloe, but… if you can it would help his chances of making it through this immensely.”

“One of his estates? Not the penthouse?” Chloe bites her lip, thinking.

“I thought one of his closer estates might be better, more space for you to be close by but have some privacy, if you choose to remain with him as he recovers. The penthouse has a guest room but there’s not a lot of places to just be by yourself.”

“It’s just, we don’t know how long this recovery is going to take,” Chloe thinks for a moment. “I can’t leave Trixie with Dan full-time for much longer, but if I can’t leave him without a nuclear meltdown, getting Trixie to school from a suburban estate becomes a big problem. And she will need to be where I am.”

He regards her quietly for a long moment. “And you’re comfortable with Trixie being near Lucifer?”

“Yes,” Chloe replies without hesitation. “Lucifer would never hurt Trixie, I realized that before this.” She gestures vaguely at the hospital room around them. “What if… what about my apartment?”

“I don’t know that your couch is the best-“

“No, I have an extra room, Maze hasn’t been home since before the entire thing with Pierce blew up… That way I wouldn’t need to uproot Trixie, and she can catch the bus to and from school.”

Amenadiel’s expression softens, and he nods in acquiescence. “If you’re sure, Chloe. We can always re-evaluate if you change your mind.”

“I won’t change my mind,” she chews on her lip some more, “but _he_ might, once he’s feeling better and I get a chance to tell him… everything.”

“We can always re-evaluate,” Amenadiel repeats firmly. “For now, let’s focus on what’s best for him, and easiest for you. Will you have difficulty getting time off work?”

“It won’t look great, with me just returning from a month-long sabbatical.” She shakes her head, “But I still have plenty of time to take, they can’t deny me this- especially since it’s technically for my partner’s care, even if he’s not a cop.”

“So we are agreed on the plan, then?”

“If you’re adamant that he needs to be moved, then this is probably the best idea. Let’s do it.”

“I’ll go now to speak with Raphael.” He rises from the chair and paces toward the door. “He may not be especially motivated to help Lucifer, but he will want to keep the knowledge of divinity from humans, so I am confident he will help us. I will also find Arael and see if he has any knowledge about a possible antidote for the poison.”

Chloe munches on leftover pizza and the bottle of water that Ella had left for her, then relocates from the couch back to the bedside. She just feels better when she has Lucifer’s warm hand in hers- proof that he _is_ still here with her, defying the stillness of his body, his silence.

*********************

The first thing he registers is the pain. Not only in his chest this time, but _everywhere_ , sharp and stinging as though he’s caught in a hailstorm of needles, only from the inside. The second thing is the heat. He’s a creature of Hell now, heat is no stranger to him but again, this is _inside_ , not an external force. He feels as though Hellfire has taken residence under his skin, pulsing through his veins and is slowly leaving nothing but ash behind to drift in the wind. He stirs weakly and a soft moan breaks through his cracked lips. He registers a coolness wrapped around his hand, and pressed here and there along his body, stifling his movements. Sounds reach him, slowly filtering into his brain- why do they sound familiar? Small beepings, whirrings, and a bubbling hissing sound all in the background, and another raspy, evenly spaced noise nearby.

Light accosts his eyes as his lids open blearily, too bright. He gives himself a moment to adjust, then takes stock of his surroundings. He’s in a narrow bed, the beepings and whirrings are all coming from monitors that are attached to _him_. He tries to move his right hand, but it’s weighted down and he ignores the pain in his muscles as he turns his head to see- _oh._

The Detective is perched precariously in the chair next to his bed, leaned forward and heavily asleep on his arm. The rasping noise he’d noted earlier was her gentle snoring. He tries to understand what’s happening, but that seems beyond his reach at the moment.

“What -?” he croaks, voice raspy and dry as the Mojave winds. “Detective?”

She stirs, lifting her head slowly, stifling a yawn. Her eyes move to the door of the room first. “Amenadiel?”

“Detective?” he repeats, trying to clear his aching throat, and her eyes snap to him, startled.

“Lucifer!” She whispers, “You’re awake!”

“So… it seems.” He swallows. “Are you all right?”

“Am _I_ all right?” He almost laughs, the frustration in her voice is so… normal. _“You’re_ the one in the hospital bed, in case you didn’t notice.”

“Yes, but _why_ am in the hospital bed?” He asks, puzzled. “I remember dinner.. but then you got upset and left – something about the case?”

“Lucifer…” Her face crumples, her eyes dropping to her hand on his. “I need to tell you something. And… I want you to know that I _know_ I was so wrong, and that I am so sorry, and I will do anything to make it up to you-“

“Detective?” He asks plaintively. “I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about. Perhaps, start at the beginning? That’s what Linda usually tells me.”

“The beginning. Okay,” she nods quickly, anxiety coming to the forefront. “I guess… I guess that was at the loft, when I saw your face.” Her eyes flicker up to his, and his confused expression is melting into one of dread, quickly flattened into the same blank expression he had shown her in the cabin when she was asking him about eating children and torturing people so she rushes to continue. “I think I have an idea what happened after I got shot that day, but I didn’t have the slightest idea then, and… and when I saw you, I was terrified. I couldn’t process anything else except the fear and when the hospital let me go and the precinct released me, I… I ran. To Rome.”

His fathomless eyes bear into hers, brimming with sadness, but he says nothing, letting her continue. “While I was there, I researched the devil, like I told you. But, I didn’t tell you about the priest I met while I was there. He… he knew about you, Lucifer. He had a book of newspaper clippings and photos of you going back decades, linking you to disasters, Nazis…” Her hand tightens reflexively on his, and he hisses in pain, drawing away from her touch.

“He was very persuasive, and… Lucifer I was so _scared_ … suddenly everything was real- _too_ real, and I didn’t know what to believe. He had a plan to… to send you back to Hell, and he asked me to help him.”

“And you said yes.” His tone is flat, like his expression. Unsurprised.

“I, I did say yes eventually. He came to me every day for two weeks and persuaded, and on the last day, I did take the vial. He said it was a sedative… and that if I gave it to you, he would perform an exorcism and it would send you back to Hell so that everyone would be safe. Even you.”

Lucifer snorts, and a tiny shining trickle of blood drips from his left nostril as Chloe looks on in shame. “I can’t be exorcised Detective, I’m not possessing this body, it’s _mine_.” His voice is bitter, defeated as he reaches up with his bandaged hand and wipes away the small line of blood, eyeing it with distaste. His cheeks are pale again, his fever having dropped for the time being thanks to the cooling packs. “So this priest had you poison me, why didn’t he finish the job then? Why am I still here? Why are _you_?”

“I didn’t, Lucifer, I… when I came back I was able to see, to remember who you are, not what was in those books. You’re not what they say you are. I don’t know if you ever were, but I _know_ that you’re not now. You’re only… you. I decided I wasn’t going to help him, and I told him so. At dinner that night, I took the vial out of my pocket and put it out on the table in plain sight so you would see it, so I would _have_ to own up to what I almost did.” She searches his face earnestly, hoping for an indication that he believes her but his expression is closed, unreadable. “When I came back to the table, you were holding up your glass, but the vial had been moved, it was tucked under the edge of my plate and when I picked it up I could tell it was nearly empty. That’s why I knocked the glass out of your hand, to keep you from drinking it. Then you cut yourself on the glass, and I got distracted by how you could get hurt from that little thing, but not by that giant explosion… and then the phone call… and then you were there, and the axe –“ she chokes off a sob as her brain helpfully replays the wet cracking sound of the axe thudding into his chest, the dull thump of his body hitting the ground as his breath gurgled through the blood filling his throat…

He doesn’t say anything so she goes on, eager to lance the entire wound all at once. “I made them let me come with you in the ambulance… I wasn’t sure what would happen if you suddenly became… invulnerable while you were injured. During the ride, I noticed that the bandage on your cut hand was soaked through, and there were weird red vein patterns spreading from underneath it… so I told the EMTs there was a good chance you’d been poisoned.”

Lucifer’s eyes drift down to his arm and chest, where that crimson tracery still mars his skin. His silence is ominous, but she gamely plows forward. “Amenadiel took the vial to your brother Raphael, and he came to examine you –“

 _“Raphael_ came to examine me?” he barks incredulously, “How on earth did Amenadiel manage that?”

“He… he said he came out of professional curiosity, that he’d never seen a poison that would work on a celestial before.”

“Ah.” The bitterness is so thick in his voice Chloe can nearly taste it. “That makes more sense. Do go on.”

“He found out it came from heaven, but not from his store of medicines. Something about a plant that was so strong it was too dangerous to be allowed on Earth…”

“Hm. One of Arael’s rejects, no doubt. Good of him to allow the poison to be redistributed here, though… How did your priest get hold of it?”

“I don’t know. I think Amenadiel does, but he didn’t tell me before he left. He should be back soon.”

“Very well. Finish your tale, Detective, and then you can leave once you’ve finished your little confession. I find I’m rather knackered, and not in the mood for company.” His expression is distant, and her chest constricts.

“Well, we did an experiment while Raphael was here, to see if me leaving would let you heal faster… and you went into a seizure. It didn’t stop until I ran back. Raphael said that the poison is targeting your divinity, and my… my presence kind of chases your divinity away, or suppresses it to the point where the poison has _less_ of an effect on you if I’m here. So… um…”

“So you’ve been stuck here with me?" He sounds exhausted. “My apologies, Detective. You’re certainly not obligated to stay here, no matter the outcome for me. I think I can understand how you must be feeling to be trapped here with me, and I certainly wouldn’t ask –“

“I’m not leaving Lucifer, so just… just shut up.” She snaps at him. “If I can help you, I’m helping. This situation is 100% _my fault_ , and I can never change that. But… Lucifer, you’re not… please don’t ask me to leave.”

His eyes are dull with fatigue, the shadows under them somehow deeper than they were mere moments before. He doesn’t answer, but turns his head away from her and closes his eyes. He drapes the hand she had been holding over his stomach, and it gives her the cold feeling that if he _could_ turn on his side to face entirely away from her, he would.

“Amenadiel’s going to ask your brother if he has an antidote for the poison, and Kinley… the priest has been arrested, so you don’t need to worry about him coming after you anymore.”

“I don’t care that he was trying to come after me,” his resigned voice cracks quietly, “I care that _you_ were.”

Neither of them speaks again, and he drops into restless sleep.

*********************

Chloe doesn’t move from the chair beside his bed, though she feels like she _should_. She watches as he moves from feigning sleep to actual sleep, the slight relaxation of his tensely held muscles sliding into the slight tremors of restless dreams. The hectic flush of fever starts to spread across his cheeks again and beads of sweat dot his hairline and the hollow of his throat. She feels the cooling packs and realizes they’ve reached room temperature again, and buzzes the nurse to request some fresh ones, letting him know that he had woken enough to have a lucid conversation before sleeping again.

The day passes slowly and Lucifer doesn’t wake again. Or, she supposes, if he does he manages to feign being asleep to avoid talking to her. Ella arrives shortly after 5 with food, which Chloe gratefully inhales. She doesn’t know if the cafeteria is within range of her effect on Lucifer or not, so she’s subsisted on vending machine snacks as she’s waited for Amenadiel.

“How was it today?” Ella seats herself in the chair by the bed, looking over the patient with curious eyes. “Anything new?

“Amenadiel went to heaven to recruit his brother to help get Lucifer out of here before the doctors start to get even more suspicious about what he is,” Chloe admits quietly, eyeing the doorway. “They’ve been hinting about getting samples due to his quick healing and the fact that his extremely high fever hasn’t done more damage.”

“Ooh. Yeah, bad news. How long has he been gone?”

“Most of today. Thanks for the pizza, by the way, it made a great breakfast, and lunch.”

“Well, I couldn’t keep you company, so the least I could do is feed you.” Ella smiles. “How is he? Anything?”

“He actually woke up earlier, when his fever was lower. He was lucid.”

“Hey! That’s great!”

“Yeah. I, um, I told him everything.”

“Oh. Wow, Decker, go right for the throat, huh?” Ella grimaces. “I guess I can’t blame you for not wanting to drag it out. How did he take it?”

“I’m not sure,” Chloe admits. “He didn’t get angry, or shout at me. I almost wish he had. The first thing he did when he woke up was ask if _I_ was okay.” She hiccups a small sob, and Ella’s face tightens. Her voice is ragged as she continues. “His face, as I told him… Ella it was… it was like I was cutting his heart out and showing it to him. Everything just seemed to drain out of him, and by the time I was done explaining, nothing was left. He tried to talk me into leaving, and when I wouldn’t go he just said he was tired, and turned away. He’s been like this ever since, mostly sleeping. I think he’s been awake a couple of times, but… I think he preferred to pretend to be asleep than talk to me again.”

“I told you Decker, he’s got it for you _bad._ This was bound to hurt him, especially since you’re literally the _only_ one he lets get so close.” Chloe’s eyes remain on the floor as Ella spells out the blatant truth she took too long to realize. Ella reaches out and takes Lucifer’s hand in hers, gently checking the bandage and the swelling. He stirs at her touch, and both women perk up.

“Lucifer? Hey buddy, you gonna talk to me or just keep snoozin’ like a Bob on a log?”

“Like a- what?” His eyes flicker open, blearily. “Miss Lopez?”

“Yeah, bro, it’s me.” Her smile lights up her face. “Like a Bob on a log. Bob was my turtle, and he’d spend most of his day snoozing on his little log in his habitat under his sunlamp, so –“

“Yes, yes, thank you.” He slurs good-naturedly, “I understand. What brings your particular brand of sunshine to my sickroom, Miss Lopez?”

“Well, duh,” she jokes, “That would be _you_ , sir. How are you feeling? Can I get you anything?”

“Ah. Ha,” Her answer appears to surprise him. His eyes flicker to Chloe and back to Ella, where they stay. “My… throat is dreadfully dry, Miss Lopez, I don’t suppose you know what’s happened to my flask?”

“I’m not really sure alcohol is the best choice for somebody with an off-the-charts fever, buddy,” his face falls and she hurries to continue, “ _But_ , if you drink this glass of water, I’ll see if I can find your flask and we can get you a chaser?”

“Are you offering the devil a deal, Miss Lopez?” His smile is hesitant, but definitely present, and it makes Chloe’s heart hurt.

“What better way to celebrate becoming an official celestial insider, yeah?” She cheers excitedly.

“She told you?” His eyebrows lift in surprise, though he still doesn’t look at Chloe.

“Yeah, I kind of made her tell me. And then I still didn’t believe her, until Rae-Rae came and backed her up, and then-“

“Ah, my little sister finally came clean, did she?” He tries a chuckle, but it rattles in his throat and Ella scrambles to get the little cup of water off his bedside tray, encouraging him to sip from the straw.

He grimaces as the water burns down his parched throat, but goes back for more quickly until the cup is empty and his voice sounds nearly normal when he speaks again. “I was wondering if she would ever admit what she is to you.”

“She told you about me?”

“Yes, she came to visit me months ago, first time since my Fall, and let me know she had sent you out here. Apparently, she felt that we could both use a friend.” His eyes are warm as he smiles at her, and she gently squeezes his hand.

“I think she was right,” she admits quietly.

“Ah, let’s not tell her, she’ll just be insufferably smug.” He squeezes her hand clumsily, then pulls it away with an attempt at a wicked smile. “Now, I believe you were going to find my flask?”

Chloe already has his bag of effects handy. She pulls out the flask and Lucifer’s dark eyes flicker toward her again, but they rest on the flask suspiciously. She unscrews the lid and takes a long pull from it, then hands it to Ella, who looks at her, puzzled.

“That was hardly necessary, Detective,” Lucifer drawls. “I don’t think you’d finish poisoning me with Miss Lopez here with us.”

Chloe flinches, and Ella’s eyebrows lift in realization.

“Is that why you didn’t drink anything all day?” She ventures quietly.

“No,” his response is just as quiet. “After all, that was the same water that’s been in the cup all morning. I was only tired, and didn’t wish to talk anymore.”

“So, uh, you didn’t answer my question, buddy,” Ella breaks in awkwardly. “How are you feeling?”

“Overall rather unpleasant, but I am alive, so that’s not a complaint.” He admits freely. “I’ve got a stinging, needling sensation that seems to be everywhere under my skin, and I’m bloody hot. The cooling packs are nice, and your hands feel lovely, but I feel as though my insides are on fire.”

“That… sounds a little more extreme than just ‘unpleasant’, my friend.” Ella declares, concerned. "Have you talked to your doctor yet?"

"I haven’t seen one since I’ve been here.”

“I’ll, uh, go find one, okay?” Chloe pipes up, eager to be of use. “I know I can reach the nurse’s station and still be in range, and maybe since Ella’s here I can see if I can make it to the cafeteria without causing a problem for you? Ella, you can call me if anything starts feeling off for him, right? I’ll walk slowly…”

“That’s a good plan, Detective. You could certainly use a break from this room.” _And me_ , he doesn’t say, but she hears it anyway and her cheeks flush again as she flees from the room.

Ella watches her leave with sadness in her eyes, but she certainly can’t blame Lucifer for how he’s acting. “She’s trying, Lucifer.”

“I know, Miss Lopez. So am I.” His eyes are closed again, but his head is turned toward her, still engaging.

“I know bud, this whole situation sucks.” She casts around for a new subject. “Did your brother catch you up on what Rae-Rae found out from the priest?”

“Amenadiel was already gone by the time I awakened. The Detective told me what she knows, but she admitted that he left before giving her all the deets.”

“Well, the good news is, there’s no more of that poison floating around anywhere. One of your brothers gave it to Kinley decades ago with some fake prophecy, apparently.”

“A fake prophecy? Are you sure it was fake?”

“Well, Rae-Rae said that Uriel wasn’t in charge of prophecies, so it _must_ have been a fake. Plus, it wasn’t even a complete prophecy. Apparently they follow a particular rhyme and rhythm?”

“Uriel.” Lucifer’s eyes dull with pain, and he closes them with a grimace. His throat tightens and his voice is raspy again when he asks for that pull from his flask. “So he was plotting against me that long ago… It shouldn’t surprise me, he was always about the long game.”

“Amenadiel said he’s not a problem anymore, so you shouldn’t need to worry about him coming after you again though, right?”

“No, not unless he has more surprises in the works.”

“Yeah, the pattern thing. Amenadiel told me.”

“Ah well, enough about me, Miss Lopez. What new and fascinating things have you been up today?”

“You’ll tell me if you start feeling funny, right? So we can get Chloe back here if we need her?”

“Yes, Miss Lopez, of course. But for now, let’s let the Detective enjoy her time away from yours truly, hm?”

“Lucifer, I don’t think that’s how it is-“ Ella begins dejectedly.

“We were talking of your day, please, Miss Lopez?”

“Pretty uneventful, really. Catch-up from yesterday, of course, but no new cases for me.”

“From yesterday? Were you ill?”

“No, of course not, I was here.”

“Goodness me, how long have I been here?” His eyebrows raise in surprise

“The uh, axe incident was the night before last, so this is day two, going into day 3.”

“What?” He’s aghast. “I shouldn’t still be here. The Detective slows my healing, it’s true, but-“

“Yeah, they’re thinking the poison may have something to do with that, since it’s targeting your divinity.” Ella explains what she and Amenadiel had discussed earlier.

Her phone chirps with text alert. “Hey, good news, Chloe reached the cafeteria and you’re not having a seizure!”

“Hooray.” He replies dryly. “At least she has somewhere she can go without loitering in the hallways like a truant teenager when she can’t bear to be in here any longer.”

“Lucifer, buddy,” Ella begins again, and his breath catches in his throat.

“It’s… quite all right, Miss Lopez,” he reassures her, “I’m truly surprised, and beyond grateful that you seem to be accepting me as you always have. But the Detective’s reaction is… well, it’s exactly as I had feared it would be. It is _not_ surprising in the least to me that she reacted by running… it is truly what I had expected, and it’s the reason I put off proving it for so very long. The only thing I didn’t see coming was her… her willingness to _use_ my feelings for her against me. Miss Lopez, I- I would have gone back to Hell for her the instant she indicated she didn’t feel safe with me nearby. I would have done _anything_ she asked of me. But, she didn’t. She… she told me everything was fine, even indicated she _wanted_ to go on a date with me, all while planning to forcibly send me back to my Father’s punishment.” He closes his eyes again, working to keep his composure. “I had already made up my mind before she returned that I would return to Hell so that she could come back to Los Angeles, to her home. I know she is not lying when she tells me she regrets plotting to send me back, but… I feel she would be happier if I follow through with that plan.”

“Oh hey, no- that’s not-“

“I’ll need to finish recovering before I can go, of course.” He interrupts her attempted refutation, his eyes still closed so he doesn't see her anguished expression. “And I don’t know how long that will take. But Miss Lopez, I simply can’t see that there’s any joy left for me here now.”

Ella’s phone chimes, and her eyes flicker to it and back to Lucifer. “I’ve got a new case. I’ll, uh, wait ‘til Chloe’s back before I leave, though, okay? Do you want to talk some more?” She prods hopefully.

“No, Miss Lopez, I find I’m quite tired. You can tend to your case, I appreciate your stopping by. I shall miss you, when I go.”

Ella sits quietly by his bedside, holding his hand. Out in the hallway, Chloe stifles a sob with her hand, clutching a bag of Cool Ranch Puffs in the other.


	7. Not a Bloody Salamander

By the time the doctor makes it to the room Lucifer has fallen asleep again and refuses to wake with gentle shaking, and Chloe appears in the room shortly after. Ella makes sure to tell the doctor what Lucifer had said about the all-over stinging and tingling. The heat and thirst are a given with his fever, but she mentions it anyway. Chloe sits quietly and listens, crinkling the bag of snacks in her hands, but Ella can’t bring herself to spare her a glance right now, with Lucifer’s pained confession ringing in her mind. The doctor performs a cursory exam and moves on, and Ella leaves for her case, bidding Chloe a quick goodbye with a request for updates. Chloe nods, eyes not straying from her partner. Ella tries to decide if her eyes are red because she’s exhausted, or if she’s been crying… and feels a little ashamed of herself for hoping she’d been crying.

_He can’t leave until he’s healed, and Chloe needs to be close to him so he can. They have time to work this out. I hope._

She really doesn’t want Lucifer to leave. He’s like a brother to her, and she can’t lose him. As she leaves the room, she decides she’ll just have to convince him of that.

**********************************

Chloe sits on the couch, quietly wringing the packet of Puffs between her hands. The light crinkling of the bag makes a soothing white noise in her mind as she turns over the conversation she’d overheard from the hallway again and again.

_I need to find a way to fix this. He can’t… I can’t let him run again, LA is his home now._

She moves again to the rigid bedside chair, still massaging the snack bag in her hands, and sits in silence, lightly rocking in the chair as he sleeps fitfully. She rakes her eyes over him, noting the deeper flush of his cheeks somewhat obscuring the obscene crimson traces of the veins below the skin and beading sweat along his brow and throat that tell her his fever is spiking again. The new antibiotic doesn’t appear to have made any progress on the swelling from the wound on his hand, but it doesn’t appear to have progressed any further, at least. His eyes flicker behind his lids, occasionally accompanied by a low whimper or stifled moan as he responds to whatever horrors his dreams are showing him.

_“I simply can’t see that there’s any joy left for me here now.”_

_I did that. I took that from him._ Joy seemed to be Lucifer’s default setting, when he wasn’t stuck in self-destruct mode. He took joy in everything he did, from decadent meals to music, to clothes that looked amazing and felt like heaven against the skin, to simple things like his everyday jobs- he found ways to bring joy and light to those around him. Cheerfully bantering with Dan and Trixie. _My fault. All my fault._ She doesn’t know how long she drifts there, lost in thought, crinkling the bag until finally,

“Detective?” he murmurs quietly, face still turned away from her.

“Yeah? I’m here, Lucifer.” She leans forward in the chair.

“Yes,” she can hear a small smile in his voice, but she can’t see his face. His voice is a little vague. “I’m aware. Are you done abusing that poor bag now? I can’t imagine what it’s done to offend you so, but I’m fairly certain that whatever’s inside is ground finely enough that I could likely snort it for a decent high at this point.”

“Oh!” She glances down at the bag and realizes he’s right, she’s well and truly crushed it. “I’m sorry, I, um, I got you a bag of Cool Ranch Puffs, but… I guess they’re probably not edible anymore now.”

“Well, please feel free to set them aside. Perhaps I can snort them later, when I’ve the energy to set up the lines properly.” He says it lightly, teasing, and for a moment she can pretend things are the way they used to be. “It’s the thought that counts, Detective.”

And though it’s still said teasingly, what _she_ hears is something entirely different. _It’s the thought that counts_. _And my first thought on realizing he was telling the truth all this time was simply ‘How do I make it go away.’ That’s the thought that counts._

“I’m so sorry, Lucifer,” she whispers softly, when she thinks he’s drifted back to sleep.

“How could you do that to me, Detective?” He slurs, as though his mind isn’t quite connected with his mouth. Perhaps it isn’t, perhaps it’s the delirium talking. “To me?”

“Because… I was terrified. All of it, it was too much, and I screwed it all up. I was terrified, and I didn’t stop to _really_ think until I’d already taken those first steps to hurt you.” She can barely hear the words pass her lips, but she sees the tension in his body that tells her he hears them. “I did eventually stop and think, but not soon enough. I know you’ll never forgive me, Lucifer, and I don’t blame you for that. It’s all my fault.”

“I can forgive, Detective.” He mutters slowly, “Forgiveness is divine, after all, unless it’s me that’s asking.”

“You can?” She tries not to let hope color her voice too boldly. “You could forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive, you reacted exactly as I expect of someone who has just come face-to-face with the devil.” He sighs heavily, the words falling thickly from his lips as his energy wanes. “What I cannot do, what I do not have the luxury of doing, is _forgetting.”_

“I understand,” Her heart sinks and she nods, even though he isn’t looking at her to see it. “But, you’re not that guy, Lucifer.”

“Hm?”

“You’re _not_ that guy. That beast that Kinley tried to convince me that you are. You’re not him. You’ve changed so much just in the short time I’ve known you. You’re just… _you_.”

“And what if I _am_ that guy? What if I _can’t_ change? Could you accept me like this?”

She flicks her eyes up to him and her heart freezes in her chest. There, less than a foot away is that charred visage she saw every time she closed her eyes in Rome. But this time, she sees _more_. She sees the pain behind the scars. She sees the mahogany eyes hiding inside the fiery depths. Unthinkingly, she reaches out to trace the ridges along his cheek and he hisses in surprise. When she blinks, her hand is pressed against her partner’s familiar stubbled cheek and he’s looking at her, wide-eyed in surprise.

“Does it hurt?” She wonders.

“No,” he replies dazedly, “Your hands actually feel blessedly cool, I’m absolutely boiling.”

“No, I meant…” she presses her palm to his cheek again and he automatically leans into the touch. “I meant the scarring, your other face. Does it hurt you?”

“Not anymore,” he responds absently, still staring at her as though she’s an alien species. _Well, I suppose to him, I am._ “It did, when I Fell, and burned. But the pain is long past, now.”

He pulls away from her as though just realizing she was touching him, and settles back against his pillows, eyes still wide and watching her. She lets her hand drift down and, watching his face, rests her hand gently on his wrist, on the swelling. He gasps, but doesn’t pull away.

“Does it hurt?” She asks again, and his answer is the same.

“No, it… the burning is less. Where your hand is, it’s… better.”

She takes her other hand and closes it gently around his wrist and hand, where the swelling is worst and simply holds it. He sighs, and his relief from the pain is evident in how quickly his lids slide shut and he falls into a doze. Chloe doesn’t move, just shifts her light grip and settles in next to him, prepared to wait out the night.

She doesn’t have to wait long. Shortly after Lucifer dozes off again, Amenadiel wanders in with a grease-stained paper bag. Chloe tries not to stare too longingly at it, but he chuckles and holds it out. “Don’t worry, it’s for you. I know you like them, and you haven’t been able to leave. We owe you a great debt for doing this, Chloe, I hope you know that.”

“No,” she refutes sharply, “There is no debt for this. Lucifer is _my_ friend, my _partner_ , and this is completely _my fault_. This? This is the absolute least I can do.”

Amenadiel takes in the vehemence of her response and opts not to answer, merely holding out the bag. She glances back at Lucifer’s arm and reluctantly lets go of him, watching him stir restlessly as she moves away to claim her meal. She sits on the couch and Amenadiel takes over the chair.

“Raphael will be here soon. Any developments?”

“He’s been awake several times today, and talking,” Amenadiel’s face lightens at this news, and he glances hopefully at his brother. “You just missed him, he passed out about an hour and a half ago. He told us that he feels like he’s burning on the inside, and that he’s got a stinging, needling pain all over. The antibiotic hasn’t started doing anything for the swelling or the wound on his hand yet, and his fever is still coming and going. It was spiking earlier, but it seems to have settled a little now. Ella even got him to drink some _water._ ”

Amenadiel looks impressed as he looks his brother over. “I don’t know, Chloe, this swelling looks much improved from when I saw it this morning?”

“No, it was just as bad when I was talking to him -oh my God!” She claps a hand over her mouth, glancing at Lucifer, then abashedly at Amenadiel. “Sorry, sorry, it’s just… an hour ago the swelling was really bad. I put my hand on it, and asked if it hurt and he said it felt better when I touched it, that my hands were cool, and the burning was… less. That’s why I was holding it when you came in, but I didn’t notice- Jeez!”

On his wrist, exactly where her hands had been, the swelling was reduced down to almost nothing. The red tracing of veins under the skin was nearly back to normal coloring. Everywhere else, the swelling and discoloration was still evident, there was a night-and-day demarcation between where her hands had, and had not been.

“Interesting,” Amenadiel ponders for a moment. “Let’s see what happens if you _don’t_ touch him for a little while- see if it relapses?”

“Amenadiel, he’s not a damn guinea pig.”

“All right, but maybe this time, hold his hand? Where the cut is, see if that makes any difference.”

She nods, and tucks into her dinner. This is an experiment she’s willing to try.

About an hour later Lucifer makes a small noise. The flush from the fever has fallen from his skin again, and the paleness is a stark contrast to the bruise-like shadows under his sunken eyes. Amenadiel glances over and sees the glimmer of his eyes below his barely-open lids.

“Luci?” He asks hopefully, and the eyes slowly crack open further.

“Hello, brother,” His voice is ragged, and Amenadiel reaches for the sippy cup, holding it where Lucifer can take a drink to soothe his parched throat. He grimaces as he swallows. “Miss Lopez let me have whiskey when I’d finished last time… is that deal still on the table?”

“I think we can manage that,” Amenadiel chuckles. “But you have to finish it first.”

“I’ll be glad when this is over and you all stop treating me like a bloody toddler.” Lucifer sighs, put-upon. “Speaking of… any news on when that might be? The Detective has places to be, and so do I.”

Amenadiel quirks an eyebrow at his brother, but doesn’t pursue his comment. “Raphael said he would come soon, we’re only waiting for him to deal with the medical staff. I’ve got the ambulance service on standby and a nursing service set up to start visiting Chloe’s apartment tomorrow afternoon.”

“Why would they visit the Detective’s apartment? Surely, she-“ he glances over at Chloe, who nods.

“We thought…” Chloe chimes in hesitantly, “it might be easier, since Trixie would still need to get to school, for you to stay in Maze’s old room? Since Dan can’t keep her, and we don’t know how long it’ll be, my apartment is a little bigger, and better set up for life with a child than your penthouse.”

“So you’re still determined to stick close, hm?” Lucifer huffs. “Well, I suppose we can always adjust as needed. So long as I get the bloody hell _out_ of here.”

“How are you feeling, Luci?”

“I’ve been worse,” he evades, “Still waiting on my whiskey, brother.”

“Still waiting for you to finish your _water_ …” Amenadiel taunts, swirling the liquid in the cup, and Lucifer rolls his eyes, lifting his left hand to carefully take the cup. Amenadiel stands ready to brace it, but he manages the slight weight of the cup without issue, finishing off the water and handing it back with a small flourish with raised eyebrows, expectant of his reward. Amenadiel hands over the flask, “And I’d like a real answer, please. How are you?”

Lucifer fumbles with the flask lid, his fine motor control not quite up to unscrewing it and curses vehemently in a language Chloe doesn’t recognize. Amenadiel takes the flask back and removes the lid, raising his eyebrows before holding the flask slightly out of reach.

“I _hurt_ , brother.” He growls, “Everywhere. I feel as though I’m burning to ash from the inside out, with a lovely sprinkling of tiny stabby sensations all over my innards. My fingers don’t seem to want to cooperate, and my limb movement seems a bit uncoordinated. I’ve done nothing but sleep and I’m still bloody exhausted. Is that enough of a confession to allow me my dram?” He holds out his shaking left hand, wiggling his fingers jerkily in an imperious plea.

Amenadiel hands over the flask, satisfied with the honest answer. Lucifer tilts his head back to drink from the flask and drains it in one go, wincing at the movement as he swallows. He hands the flask back to Amenadiel with a sad little sigh, and drops his head back onto his pillow. “Is there anything else I should know about this plan of yours? Are we certain I can’t just go home to Lux? What if Maze decides she wants her room back? The Detective is going to need to go back to work, she’s just come off a lovely overseas research trip, and she can’t just-“

“Luci, you were unconscious, you don’t remember what happened the last time Chloe left you-“

“Bollocks, she was able to travel all the way to the cafeteria just this afternoon without so much as a cough from me. She was gone for a good half an hour, it _must_ be a fairly decent distance away. Perhaps we should test it again. It could have been a fluke, a one-time occurrence and we’re treating it as gospel. This is too much to ask of the Detective, brother.”

“Very well,” Amenadiel agrees, and Lucifer’s face lights up with hope as Chloe’s heart sinks. “When Raphael arrives we can conduct another test. If Chloe leaves and nothing happens, we can adjust the plan to taking you to Lux and having a visiting nurse stay with you instead.”

“I don’t need a bloody babysitter,” Lucifer growls frustratedly. “I simply need time to recover, and we _know_ that will happen more quickly if there’s a healthy distance between myself and the Detective. The sooner I recover, the sooner you can all get back to your lives.”

“Someone needs to be with you, Luci. We still don’t know what this poison is doing to you, or how long before it’s out of your system. Your fevers are still severe, and you’re not able to care for yourself when they spike. This is happening, brother. One way or another.”

“What about Maze?” Lucifer offers, trying his last-ditch hope for a reprieve. “You know, it’s a bit odd that she hasn’t been here. She usually can’t resist the urge to gloat over me when I’m wounded.”

“Maze moved out weeks before my… vacation,” Chloe provides. “I’ve barely spoken to her since we’ve been back. She still hasn’t made up with Trixie, and she’s shown no interest in moving back in. If she does, I’m sure it can wait until you feel better. I… actually didn’t tell her you were here, it completely slipped my mind.”

“She’s on a bounty in Louisiana. Linda will tell her when she returns, I’m sure,” Amenadiel supplies.

“Fine,” he snaps, agitated. “We’ll test it when Raphael gets here, then.”

“What are we testing?” Comes a mild voice from the doorway, and three pairs of eyes snap to the angel in the doorway. He nods a greeting to Amenadiel, and his eyes narrow curiously on Lucifer.

“Lucifer feels we should do a second trial to determine if Chloe’s presence is truly necessary. I think he’s feeling a bit too dependent at the moment and would rather be able to shut himself up at Lux alone until he recovers and can crawl out from under his rock on his own terms.”

“For Dad’s sake, brother, I’m not a bloody salamander.” Lucifer huffs, and Amenadiel hides a smile.

“Would you prefer a different comparison?” Raphael drawls, moving slowly toward the bed. “Serpent, perhaps? Dragon? _Beast?_ ”

“Alright, you can back the fuck right off, Chippy.” Chloe springs off the couch and plants herself between the bed and the approaching healer when she sees Lucifer struggling between fury and his current weakness. “Help, or don’t, but we don’t need any snide comments from the peanut gallery, got it?”

She hears a soft snort from behind her, and a low, “Well said, Detective,” from Lucifer. Raphael regards her steadily, somewhat chagrined that he was lured into baiting his fallen brother so easily. As Amenadiel stressed, however, they _do_ need to remove the evidence of divinity from the humans’ records, and the easiest way to do that is to remove the patient from their care, now.

“Very well.” He steps back. “Let us start this trial. Ms. Decker can leave while I perform the exam on the patient. Once we’ve determined if he can survive her absence, Amenadiel can alert the waiting transport of their destination and I can start collecting the evidence of divinity and dispose of it.”

“Yes, let’s.” Lucifer agrees airily, “The sooner we begin the sooner it will be over.”

Chloe eyes the angel and moves toward the door. He steps aside politely and lets her pass as he approaches the bed, narrowing his eyes as he begins to read the patient.

Chloe strides purposefully through the hallways, not really looking where she’s going other than for the exit signs she needs. She doesn’t even make it to the lobby this time before her phone is ringing, and she immediately turns and speeds back to the room.

She bolts through the door, breathing hard from her headlong flight back. There’s no gathering of medical staff this time, but the strain on Raphael’s face and the utter change in Lucifer is devastating. His previously pale face is nearly translucent, eyes closed, his breathing ragged, and his limbs are curled in around him. His current posture reminds her of a spider that’s been sprayed with bug spray, all folded in on itself and twitching helplessly. She crosses to the side of the bed and rests her palm against his curly, unkempt hair as he slowly begins to relax, tremors coursing through him.

“What happened? I didn’t even make it near the lobby this time! We were nearly out the door last time…”

“The poison has set itself deep into the tissue now, and it has somehow gotten stronger since my last examination.” The healer’s gaze is focused on Lucifer, and his tone is fascinated. Chloe feels a surge of hatred for this… mad scientist, and fights to keep herself from snarling at him.

“So, you’re saying it feeds on divinity, and it’s looking like the more it feeds, the stronger it’s getting?”

“That seems a reasonable hypothesis, for now. But we at least have an answer to the question we were testing. If you want the patient to have a chance at survival, Ms. Decker’s presence is, in fact, necessary.”

************************************

The transfer goes over without a hitch, once Raphael gathers all the test results and readings, and Lucifer's chart. Lucifer endures it all silently, eyes unfocused when they’re open at all. Chloe, of course, rides with him in the ambulance, while Amenadiel had gone ahead to the apartment to let the visiting nurse service in so they could set up the necessary equipment in the room Lucifer would be using.

The EMTs carry Lucifer’s long body up the stairs on a stretcher, and help get him settled and properly attached to his IV and monitors. By the time they leave, he has either slipped into unconsciousness or fallen into a deep sleep. She and Amenadiel stand shoulder-to-shoulder in the doorway of Maze’s old room, watching him breathe. If he had looked dwarfed in the tiny hospital bed surrounded by machinery, he appears even more diminished now.

“It’s as though there’s nearly nothing left of him,” Amenadiel murmurs under his breath, and Chloe stifles a sob. He gently takes her elbow and leads her away, downstairs to the family room where she collapses onto her couch.

“I spoke with Arael while I was waiting for Raphael to see me,” he confides. He remembers the properties of the plant, and the poison. Arael is a gentle soul, and he was horrified that the vial had been put to such use. He is trying to design something that will counteract the effects of the poison. He understands the gravity of the situation here, and I know he will work as fast as may be to find a solution, if one exists.” She nods anxiously. “I know this is a difficult and… awkward situation for you Chloe. I asked Arael about something that might help suppress divinity so that you can have a respite, or so Lucifer can move back to Lux, and he is looking into that as well. I don’t want you to worry about anything, Lucifer will happily pay you for anything you need while he is here in exchange for allowing him to remain in your realm of influence while he recovers.”

“Amenadiel,” Chloe’s voice croaks, and she clears her throat before continuing. “He’s not planning to go back to Lux once he’s recovered. Or, if he is, only enough to gain his full strength. He’s… planning to go back to Hell.”

Amenadiel chuckles, until he notices that Chloe’s face is deadly serious. “No, Chloe, there’s no way Luci would willingly go back to Hell. Not after fighting for so long to finally leave it behind. I’m no longer enforcing his return, and Father hasn’t sent anyone else to do so.”

“He _is_ , Amenadiel.” She repeats quietly, glancing up the stairs. “He told Ella so last night. After I told him what I’ve done, he… he told her that he can’t see that there’s any joy left for him here, now.”

“Oh, Luci,” Amenadiel murmurs, his dark eyes heavy with sadness. “What have we done to you, brother?”

 _“We?_ ” Chloe parrots incredulously, “What, is there a mouse in my pocket?”

“No,” Amenadiel corrects, “this is not _just_ you, Chloe. Lucifer has been taught to expect rejection for nearly all his immortal life. Our siblings turned away from him, Mother looked on as Father ordered Michael to cast him out of the Silver City. He was essentially alone in Hell for time beyond measure, and angels are not designed for such isolation. There’s a reason why there are _so many of us,_ we’re social creatures. It’s why his bond with Mazikeen was so strong, he… adopted her, for lack of a better term. She was his only family, until they came here and she couldn’t understand the changes he started experiencing. Humans are much more like angels than demons are, and Maze had difficulty understanding why he was drawn to them, to _you_. That drove the first wedge between them, isolating him even further. He’d learned by then not to let anyone get too close, because the closer they are, the more their rejection hurts. But you, Chloe… you managed to slip past his guard.”

This was a facet of Lucifer’s life that Chloe hadn’t thought about yet. What would that much time do to a person, alone and rejected, left to languish in a joyless place full of nothing but torture and punishment? She recalls his constant confusion at casually affectionate hugs and touch. His instinctive lean into her touch on his cheek. _No wonder he’d taken so much joy in all the mundane little things Earth could offer._

“I don't know how he will recover from this," he concludes. "I’m afraid he may truly be broken."


	8. Just a Bit of Spot and Bother, Really

Lucifer burns. Awake or sleeping, it varies only by intensity. When he sleeps he burns in his dreams, in lakes of fire and magma, alternating between screaming in agony and begging for release. When he wakes, he quickly learns to map where Chloe is in the apartment solely by the intensity of the burning, needling sensations that incessantly plague him.

He whimpers quietly at the burgeoning ferocity of the pain when she ventures out onto the patio, and sighs in relief when she comes upstairs to her bedroom down the hall. When she creeps in to check on him, the rush of tingling coolness that sweeps over him makes his breath catch in his throat.

“Are you awake?” She whispers, and he debates the benefits of pretending to be asleep.

“Hello, Detective,” his desire to extend the respite that she brings wins out. She’s smiling at him when he opens his eyes.

“Hi,” she replies shyly. “So, Amenadiel had an idea while we were at the hospital. The swelling on your wrist went down a lot when I was holding onto it last night, and we thought we might, um, see if I could do anything about the wound on your hand?”

“What, see if you can kiss it and make it better?” he teases lightly, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Well, I thought I might try holding onto it, like I did with your arm,” the corner of her mouth quirks up, and she teases back a little. “At least to start?”

“Ah, we’re trying the ‘laying on of hands’ approach,” he quips weakly. “I approve, though there are many other places that could benefit from that method…”

She chuffs a watery laugh as she tries (and fails) to level a glare at him. “Let’s start with the hand, Lucifer.”

“Oooh, potential for progression, I like it.”

“I’m going to remove the bandage, because it might require actual contact. I’ve held your hand before and nothing, but that was always with the bandage in place.”

“Whatever you desire, Detective.”

Maze’s room is small- more of an office, really, so there’s no room for extra furniture beyond the queen-sized bed and dressers. She perches on the edge of the mattress and carefully helps him sit up, propped with pillows against the headboard before she gently unwraps the gauze around his right hand, carefully inspecting the still-angry wound. She notes that the swelling around his wrist is still decreased where her hands had rested, and lets herself hope just a bit. She self-consciously takes his hand in both of hers and rests it in her lap, noting his sigh as the coolness of her touch washes over his heated skin. They avoid each other’s gaze for a moment before Chloe breaks the awkward silence.

“So, Trixie will be here starting tomorrow after school.”

“Ah yes, the Urchin.” Lucifer’s muses fondly, hesitantly. “Not to worry, Detective, obviously I’ll be keeping to my room, and I doubt your Spawn will care to venture in here. She will be perfectly safe.”

“Lucifer,” Chloe winces at his words. “I’m not afraid of you, or of you hurting Trixie. I know you would never do that. I just wanted to let you know, because I’m not sure I’m going to be successful at making her leave you alone.”

His eyes find hers. In the morning light filtering in through the window behind her she can read the deep sadness in them, and her stomach twists painfully.

“Would you prefer I…make her unwelcome, Detective?” He offers, but his expression reflects the distaste he feels at the idea.

“No, No.” She sighs, trying to figure out how she can make him understand. “If she’s not bothering you, it’s fine if she spends time with you.”

“You- really?” His eyebrows lift in surprise as his jaw drops for a moment before he schools his expression. “Are you quite sure?”

“Of _course_ I’m sure,” she replies firmly. “I told you, I’m not afraid of you, and Trixie considers you one of her best friends. You are welcome to stay here as long as you desire to be here.” _Please,_ she thinks to herself, _please hear what I’m really saying. Stay with us. Stay with_ me.

“I assure you, Detective, I’ll not press my welcome once I’m recovered. I’m grateful to you for your help and accommodations, and I’ll certainly repay the inconvenience as best I can.” He holds her gaze for a moment before closing his eyes with a soft sigh. “Your hand feels lovely. How long before we know if it’s working?”

“I’m not really sure. I fell asleep last night as I was holding on to your wrist, so I’m not sure how long before the swelling went down…”

“You must be exhausted, Detective.” She hears the self-recrimination in his voice, and reaches out to lightly touch his cheek. His eyes pop open in surprise.

“None of this is your fault, Lucifer, it’s _mine,”_ she challenges. He tries to look away, but her fingers firmly guide his face back in her direction. “Please, listen to me and believe what I’m saying to you. I made a _huge_ mistake when I ran to Rome, and you’ve had to pay for it. I made an even bigger mistake when I agreed to work with Kinley, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for that, Lucifer- even though I didn’t go through with his plan, the fact that I did for a little while is still the reason you’re here, in this situation. I don’t like seeing you hurting like this. I promise I will do anything in my power to make this right.”

“You already are,” he refutes. “You’ve opened your home to the Adversary, and are currently holding the Devil’s hand, trying to see if you can help heal him. No one could possibly ask more of you than that. I shouldn’t be asking _this_ much of you…”

“You’re not listening to me,” she chides gently. “You’re important to me, Lucifer. I lost sight of that for a minute, but it’s crystal clear again now. I want you in my life, okay? I’m here, I’m doing this because _you_ mean something to me.”

 _Ah, of course,_ he thinks to himself. _She thinks she needs the eggs._ Well, he’s willing to supply what she needs while he’s here. It’s the least he can do.

Her phone chimes, then, and she checks it, chuckling to herself. “Looks like Dan caught Ella’s case from last night.”

“Oh?” His interest is peaked, and he pounces on the welcome change of subject. “Is Sir Douche having troubles already?”

“They’re on their way to question a suspect, guy with the name of Turkish Pete.”

“Ah, they’ll be going to see Bashir, then.”

“Of course you know him,” Chloe rolls her eyes fondly, shaking her head.

“Mm. He owes me a favor. You can tell Daniel that if he needs an in, he has my permission to cash in on it.” _Might as well leave the eggs on the table. It’s not as though I’ll be around to collect for much longer._

“Wow, you- really?” It’s Chloe’s turn for surprise, and his lips twitch in a small smile.

“Yes. Do tell the Douche not to get used to it, but I’m not likely to need it.”

“That’s… really good of you, Lucifer.” She doubts Dan will deign to use the favor with his current acrimony toward Lucifer, but even just the offer is generous.

“Yes, well. Don’t spread it about.” He closes his eyes, head lolling to the side as fatigue creeps in. Chloe fights back a yawn, but doesn’t quite manage to win. Lucifer’s breathing deepens and evens out as he drifts, and Chloe chances a peek at his hand. She thinks it looks a bit improved. She flickers her eyes to his face, lines of pain evident even in the relaxation of sleep. She lifts his hand carefully to her lips and presses a gentle kiss to the palm before lowering it back to her lap, enclosed in both of her own hands. She watches him for another few moments as her eyes grow heavy and she finds herself nodding, finally allowing herself to slump against the warmth of his shoulder in a peaceful doze.

The late-afternoon light is dimming when she awakes with a jolt. Her head is pillowed against Lucifer’s shoulder, and she nuzzles into it without thinking for a moment, until she realizes he’s holding himself far too stiffly to still be asleep. She sits up with a gasp, apologies on her lips, but he’s already flinching back, holding up both hands in a peacemaking gesture. His lips are moving but her brain hasn’t caught up to waking speed yet.

_How does he still smell so good? He’s been in the hospital for days and hasn’t been able to shower or apply cologne and he just smells… amazing._

“-assure you, you are quite safe.” He’s saying when her brain finally reaches the station of consciousness.

“What?” She says blankly, nonplussed. Her brain replays what he’s just said, and she’s suddenly annoyed. “Lucifer, for the hundredth time, _I am not afraid of you_. I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you, and was afraid I’d made _you_ uncomfortable by doing so.”

“I- oh.” He replies quietly. “No, Detective, I’ve already told you, your touch is quite soothing for this problem of mine. In fact, look-“ He slides the shoulder of his hospital gown down a bit, and sure enough, the skin where her face had just been resting is clear of the vein patterns evident everywhere else. She reaches out and brushes her fingers over the area, feeling nothing more than his normal body heat and grins up at him, returning his reticent smile.

“How’s your hand?” She reaches out and snags it, and he lets her pull it in for inspection. “Lucifer… this looks…”

“Better, yes?” His eyes gain a little sparkle as he regards his palm.

“Understatement.” She complains dryly, and he snickers lightly. The swelling is _gone_ , and while the wound is still present, it’s no longer oozing blood and a deep scab has formed. He flexes his thumb tentatively and smiles when it responds without hesitation. “How are you feeling?”

“Currently, like only half of me has been filled with angry bees.” He sighs, “It’s quite the lovely bit of relief.”

“Half?” she queries, looking him over.

“Indeed,” he agrees wryly, “You’re apparently the best ice pack there is, and you’ve been obligingly pressed against my right side for several hours now.”

“Oh.” She blinks for a moment. “Do you- um, should I-?”

“It’s quite all right, Detective,” he reassures her. “You’ve given up enough of your time for me. You should spend some time taking care of yourself, now, before your Offspring returns tomorrow. I’m certainly capable of entertaining myself, especially if you’ll kindly leave me my phone. And I think the nursing service should be here soon –“ A knock sounds from the front door and he chuckles in satisfaction. “Ah, right on time. Thank you, Detective, I truly do appreciate what you’ve done for me today.”

She rushes down the stairs to let the nurses in, and they introduce themselves as Troy and Tina, the afternoon shift. Tina has unnaturally red hair and enormous green eyes, and Troy is even taller and broader than Lucifer with a relaxed grin and unruly dishwater blonde hair. Chloe points them in the direction of Lucifer’s room, and sets about making them dinner.

_When did he even eat last? Surely he still needs to eat?_

She’s already placed a pitcher of water and a glass on the bedside table within his easy reach, so she just makes a simple offering of turkey sandwiches and places a stack of them on a plate to carry up to him when the nurses leave, with a bag of potato chips as a side. If he’s amenable to some company, maybe she’ll sit on his left side and see if she can soothe some more of that pain away.

The nursing team comes downstairs after about an hour, and Chloe asks for an update. They give her their contact card in case of emergency, and some brief instructions on what to do if his fever spikes or if anything worsens. His medications are all being administered piggybacked to his intravenous fluid hookup, so she doesn’t need to worry about tracking tablets for him.

“Is he strong enough to walk if he needs to, um, use the bathroom?”

“He really isn’t,” Tina explains, “That’s part of the reason Troy here got teamed up with me for this assignment. He helped Mr. Morningstar to the facilities and back and we made sure we got him settled comfortably. He’s got a bedpan, but he was pretty adamant that he wouldn’t be needing it.” She glances up the stairs dubiously, as if sensing that Lucifer had the potential to be a troublesome patient. “I’m going to bring you a transport chair from the van, just in case you wind up in a situation. It won’t help with stairs, obviously, but if he wanders and…”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Chloe’s lips twist in a wry smile. “He can be a bit… stubborn.”

“I can hear you, you know,” Lucifer’s voice drifts tauntingly down the stairs from his room. “I fully intend to be a model patient.”

Chloe’s cheeks flush, as do Tina’s, while Troy barks a hearty laugh. “No worries, Mr. Morningstar, we’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

Chloe thanks the pair as they exit, and Tina comes back with the transport chair as promised. Chloe grabs the sandwiches and starts up the stairs, hearing Lucifer’s low voice as she approaches the door.

“No, Patrick, I’m only checking in… I’m healing quite well, thank you, oh? Do tell.” A longish pause as Patrick speaks, and Chloe taps on the door quietly. “Do come in, Detective, it’s your home, after all- Yes, Patrick, still with you, my apologies.”

Chloe cracks open the door in time to see his already pale face lighten even further. “Eve? Are you _sure_ that was her name?” Another pause. “How… unexpected. Did she leave you a phone number for where she’s staying? Oh, she is. Ah, right there, of course she is. Yes, all right, put her on the line.” He makes a little face that Chloe can’t identify, and she makes to set down the plate and leave the room, but he holds out a hand, asking her to wait, inviting her to sit down.

“Hello, Eve,” his voice takes on a friendly tone she doesn’t hear often, typically only when he’s being particularly protective of Ella. An uneasy feeling settles in her gut. “Yes, it’s wonderful to hear your voice as well… Oh, I’m all right, er, just a bit of spot and bother, really. Enjoying a little down-time, as it happens. Yes, Patrick told me you’d been waiting, I do apologize darling, I’d no idea you were coming… how did you wind up in town? A private plane, really. Yes, well, I’m afraid I won’t be back at Lux for a little while, and I don’t know how long I’ll actually be in town… but I do have a friend at the Waldorf hotel that owes me a favor, I can set you up with a suite until you have some time to get on your feet -? Yes, exactly. Lovely. All right, I’ll set up a ride for you and call Patrick back with the details… Okay, love. Yes, we’ll have a chat soon. Take care, now.” He ends the call and stares at the phone as though he’s in shock.

“Surprise visitor?” Chloe asks lightly.

“Surprise is not a big enough word, Detective. _Eve_ is here.”

“Old friend?” she probes carefully.

“Thousands of years old?” He estimates with a stunned laugh. “She skipped out on Heaven to come and… visit.”

“Thousands? Are you… Wait, _Eve_ Eve? As in, Adam and- ?”

 _“The_ Eve, yes, the one and only.” He’s still staring at his phone as though it might bite him.

“Wow,” she breathes quietly. “That’s… a long way to go to hook up with an ex.”

“I’m not certain I’d call her an ‘ex’, though I suppose in a loose sense of the word…” he drifts off without finishing the sentence. His next words are so quiet she can barely hear them, directed at himself. “Well. I suppose I’ll need to find some time to have a conversation with her before I go.”

“Go?” Chloe asks innocently, and he startles as though he’d forgotten she was in the room. “You said you weren’t sure you’d be in town… where are you headed? Vegas, again?”

“No… a bit further this time, I think.” He evades. He makes a quick phone call and speaks with someone named Pierre about a suite, arranging a car to be sent to Lux. Then he calls Patrick and informs him of the arrangement for Eve. Once he ends the call, he flashes a smile in an effort to distract her. “I see you brought dinner! You must be famished, Detective, or is some of that for me?”

“Oh, yeah, I intended to share,” she gives him a small smile back. “I thought maybe, if you wanted some company, we could watch some TV, and maybe see about removing those bees on your left side? How are you feeling now?”

“I’m feeling like I’ll be bloody well relieved when I’m no longer asked how I’m feeling,” he grumbles, but she can see he’s just putting on a show. She lifts an eyebrow, bracing her question, and his shoulders slump in defeat. “The bees are starting to wake again, but it’s perfectly manageable.” She holds out her hand, and he reluctantly places his right hand in it for an exam. The wound still looks better, the scab is holding, and the swelling hasn’t returned.

“All right then. Up for some company and a movie?”

“With sandwiches?” He teases. “How can I refuse?”

“Well, scoot over!” she makes shooing motions, helping him scoot to the side so there’s room for her on his left side, then retrieves the platter and the remote for Maze’s TV before settling in beside him. His sigh of relief doesn’t go unnoticed, and she glances at him from the corner of her eye. “Manageable, hm?”

“I was managing perfectly well, thank you.” He sniffs, “I can’t help if your proximity makes it… slightly easier to manage.”

“I don’t mind being close to you, Lucifer. I still consider you my best friend, you know.” She says it because she wants him to know, to believe it, but she knows it’s not true. He’s more than that to her, now. Much more. _He can forgive, but not forget. That's all right, because I can't forget either. But... I know now that I can't lose him. I have to make him see that- make him understand that I want him to stay, and be happy._

He quirks an eyebrow at her, searching for the lie, but can’t find one. But then… she’d fooled him before. He doesn’t move away from her, but says softly, “You know, before I met you I was quite good at detecting lies.”

“You’re still good at detecting lies, Lucifer.”

“Just not with you?”

“I didn’t lie to you.”

“Oh?” His tone darkens, but he doesn’t move away – and neither does she. “You said you wanted to go on a date with me, Detective. Though I suppose you could have meant it… since that was when you were planning to execute Kinley’s plan, was it not?”

She sighs, and a single tear beads and falls from her lashes before she gains control of herself. _I deserve this. We need to have this conversation._

“I did want to go on our date. When you asked me if I was sure, after the explosion… Lucifer, that explosion was my wakeup call.” She looks up at him to see if he’s listening. He’s watching her, eyes dark and unreadable. “I’d been having doubts all along, big ones. Kinley had an answer, a counter for everything and he was always so kind, so patient. Soft-spoken. I had realized at my last meeting with him, before the explosion, that he’s a fanatic, and had already changed my mind about helping him. I’d made up my mind to tell you the whole truth about everything I’d done, and considered doing to you. When Kylie blew up the cabin with you inside… Lucifer, I saw it. I mean, I saw the explosion, of course, but I saw what my life would be like without you. I… didn’t like it.” _My world imploded._ “I was… it felt like my heart stopped beating. Then I saw you walking out of the flames and… and my heart started again and all I could do was get to you as fast as possible. I wanted to keep our date because I needed to tell you that you were in danger, and I wanted to spend time with you.”

“Hm,” Lucifer remarks noncommittally, but doesn’t remark any further on her confession. “Well, you’re certainly spending time with me now , whether you want to or not, it seems. What shall we watch, Detective?”

She lets him pick the movie, and she notices that the sandwiches are still untouched. She sets the plate between them, and deliberately chooses one without looking at the plate, taking a large bite and chewing slowly. He finds something that makes Chloe roll her eyes, with loads of action sequences and a heroine with improbably large breasts and tight pants. Once he presses play, he reaches down to take a sandwich, and Chloe relaxes a little against him. She rests her head against his chest, and focuses on the sound of his steady heartbeat beneath her cheek. _I almost lost this. Almost lost him._

When the platter is empty (Lucifer accounted for most of the sandwiches, so apparently he does need to eat), Chloe reaches across to claim his wounded hand again, holding it between hers. Lucifer awkwardly tries to find a place for his left arm wedged between them, but with their current position really the only place it can rest is over Chloe’s shoulders. He places it gingerly, she wriggles a little closer, and he eventually relaxes as she curls into him.

He’s not watching the movie, he’s pondering the Detective. He keeps shooting looks down at her, and sees her eyes slide closed, feels her melting into him as sleep claims her and he just can’t make sense of it. Any of it, really. His thoughts start to muddle and he notices the heat of fever creeping back to him. He sighs in frustration and reaches his long arm to the left to grab the glass of water there, emptying it before he’s too weak to lift it as Chloe murmurs against his chest. He glances at her again, concerned. _Should I wake her? Ask her to leave?_ But his eyes grow heavy, and her presence, though warm against him, has a cooling presence for the burning _inside_. He loses his battle for nobility, and nods into sleep, his cheek coming to rest against the crown of her head.

She wakes some time later with the feeling of being trapped inside a hot water bottle. Lucifer is whimpering and twitching in his sleep, gripped in the frantic flush of another round of fevered delirium. He starts muttering, words bleeding together, but she recognizes them after a moment:

 _“Detective, for once, I agree with this imbecile. Step aside… Detective…. No! No! Detective! No, no, no, no, no, no. This... this can't happen.”_ And suddenly a pair of enormous wings erupt from behind him and swoop forward, surrounding the pair of them in a cocoon of heat and muted iridescence as his indistinct words bleed into incoherent shrieks of agony. His arms close around her, cupping her head against his chest as he folds himself around her, trembling and shivering as the alarms on the monitors start to clamor. Chloe wraps her arms around him and holds tight, murmuring softly into his neck, her fingers find his hair and stroke soothingly as her own fuzzy memory of the loft confirms exactly what Lucifer is reliving right now. Finally, he throws his head back with another bloodcurdling scream and his eyes again blaze with white light, though this time it also bleeds from his wings in waves as well before he slumps against her, panting and spent into true unconsciousness. Chloe carefully slips from his grip and resets the alarms, taking care not to disturb the feathers on his wings. Once the alarms are peacefully beeping once more, she takes a moment to really examine the wings. They should be beautiful, and they are, in a way. But… she can tell they’re off. There are feathers missing. Hundreds of them, and gaping patches of flushed skin with puckers that she can too easily identify as barely-healed bullet wounds. She looks closer and can see where the shafts of new feathers are only just starting to grow in. She reaches over to gently trail her hands over the leading edge of his right wing, where she can see a divot in the bone under the skin, and the wings tremble and shrink back, disappearing back to wherever they sprang from. She brushes his sweaty hair back off his forehead and pads downstairs to the kitchen to retrieve the cold packs the nursing service left. She double-checks the front door and patio doors to make sure they’re locked, and makes her way back upstairs to his room. She places the cold packs, then retreats to her bedroom to change into her pajamas. When she returns a little while later, he’s huddled on his side, trembling, with cheeks still flushed and his hospital gown soaked with sweat. She adjusts the cold packs and hears his voice in her mind; _“You’re apparently the best ice pack there is.”_ Decision made. She pulls the covers over him, snags a blanket for herself and crawls onto the mattress, where his left side will be when rolls onto his back. She presses against him and his arms close around her. She feels some of the tension leave him, like Trixie used to do the moment she snuggled with Miss Alien.

_This will probably be awkward in the morning, but we’ll deal with that tomorrow._


	9. The Devil's Soft Spot

As it happens, it isn’t awkward at all. Chloe is awakened by an insistent knocking on the front door, and launches from the bed to admit the morning nursing shift. Jason and Jenna look confused at Chloe’s sleep-muddled question about alphabetical teams, but take it in stride. Chloe informs them of his fever last night, and that she hasn’t had a chance yet to evaluate him this morning before they go to care for their patient.

Chloe takes advantage of their presence to take a shower, then moves downstairs to prepare breakfast. She passes his bedroom and can only just make out their conversation, Lucifer’s playful, purring tone and the nurses’ laughter. _Good, sounds like he’s feeling better._

She makes breakfast as they finish their rounds, then goes on to kill some time with some other minor chores as she waits for them to exit. At one point she hears a brief commotion from upstairs and looks up worriedly, but it dies down pretty quickly so she leaves them to it.

Jenna looks a bit pale when she comes down the stairs, Jason watching her in concern.

“Is everything okay?” Chloe asks anxiously.

“Yeah,” Jason supplies, “Just a little surprise. The file says he took an axe to the chest a few days ago?”

“Yeah, that’s right. I haven’t been watching that wound, is it okay?”

“Uh… yeah.” Jason hesitates. “I’ve never seen someone heal so fast, it’s practically scarred over now. He’s still really weak, though. The vascular inflammation seems a lot better today, based on what the night shift had noted from yesterday, and the wound on his hand seems like it’s responding to the antibiotics really well. Once we can get him past the fevers and the weakness, he should be back on his feet in no time!”

“That’s great to hear!” Chloe chirps. “I’m sure he was happy to get that news.”

“He said he was,” Jason says doubtfully. “But he still seems pretty depressed.”

“I _can_ still hear you, darlings,” Lucifer’s voice floats down from on high.

Chloe sighs, rolling her eyes and smiling. “He also has _really_ good hearing, in addition to being a fast healer.”

“What, is he Clark Kent or something?” Jason jokes, chuckling.

“Or something,” Chloe agrees, giggling nervously as they depart.

“I’m bringing up breakfast,” she says aloud, “Is there anything else you need me to bring?”

“No, thank you Detective,” he replies, and she hears the musical tone of his phone ringing. “Bashir!” he crows, delighted, “I was just thinking of you yesterday, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

She’s climbing the stairs, wondering if Dan had decided to use Lucifer’s favor after all.

“Mmhm. No, I’m afraid I’ve been indisposed. No, I can assure she’s not my ‘girlfriend’, merely an… old friend. Yes, of course. I knew she was in town, I spoke with her last night on the phone. She had mentioned that she got a ride into town on a private plane, but I’m afraid I know nothing about a necklace. How did you-? Aha. She’s certainly not the type to steal anything. Absolutely not, a bit on the pure side, if you know what I mean. Yes well, one can’t account for taste among friends. Yes, I did hear about that-“ Chloe taps on the door and opens, and he beckons her in with a small smile. “I happen to know the Detective working the case, in fact- did he mention-? No. Ah. Well, yes. As to that, I’d appreciate it very much if you would leave Eve out of this, in repayment for your favor. Mmhm. You have my personal guarantee that Eve has nothing to do with your missing necklace, she only wanted a ride to LA. Yes, you leave her unmolested and we’ll call it even. Deal? Excellent. Thank you, Bashir. Best of luck getting the Mirage back. Ta, now.”

“Well!” He sighs, “It’s a good thing Daniel didn’t need to cash in my favor, as it appears Eve inadvertently got herself tangled in his murder investigation.”

“Oh?” Chloe probes, handing him his plate. “How did she manage that?”

“By having the abysmal luck of hitching a ride to LA on the private plane of your apparent murder victim, Pablo. One of Bashir’s people caught up to her at Lux last night and nearly shot her before she mentioned my name.” He glowers. “At least my name commands enough respect here that he merely took her to Bashir for an interview, and they returned her to the Waldorf afterward. I suppose I should call to check on her…”

“It sounds like Dan should probably speak to her, if she’s connected with his case…” Chloe offers.

“Oh, yes of course.” He perks up a bit. “That would do nicely, Detective, will you tell him where she is? I haven’t saved his number in my phone… Suite 1245.”

Chloe snorts softly, and texts Dan to follow up with this potential witness as Lucifer digs into his breakfast. “So, I know you’re sick of hearing it, but… how are you feeling?”

He pauses in inhaling the contents of plate to take an internal stock as she inspects him. The tracework of veins is still visible, but only slightly. He’s using his right hand, and though his dexterity still isn’t normal it’s certainly better than it was.

“I feel… surprisingly good, Detective. I think, perhaps we may be able to try another distance experiment today? I’ve hardly felt a twinge at your distance since I fell asleep last night, and I’ll admit that’s a huge improvement over yesterday.”

“Yesterday?”

“Oh yes, I could tell where you were in the apartment just by the level of discomfort. It’s been steady today so far and even last night it didn’t wake me.”

“Yeah, um, what do you remember from last night?”

“I fell asleep while we were watching a movie,” he posits slowly. “Why?”

“I fell asleep too. Your fever came back, and you had a fever dream.”

“Did I harm you?” his voice is anxious, eyes sweeping over her to check for injuries.

“No, not at all,” she reassures him quickly. “You were… talking, and… I think you might have been dreaming about the loft, when I got shot?”

“Oh,” he breathes silently.

“You started screaming, and… held me, and your wings appeared and… they wrapped around us and your screams… Lucifer- your wings.“ her eyes are brimming with tears, “Will you tell me what happened?”

He looks away and sets down his plate, appetite gone. “There’s nothing really to tell, Detective. You were shot, unconscious. I… thought he had killed you until I got you up on that roof and saw you were wearing a vest.”

“You protected me with your wings, didn’t you.” It’s not a question. She’s seen the evidence, the healed bullet wounds, the missing feathers.

“Yes, well. What are partners for?” He still won’t look at her.

“I saw the damage to your wings,” she confesses quietly. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Yes, they’re healing quite well overall.” He attempts to change the subject. “The buggers have always been slow to heal, when they were broken in my fall it took centuries for them to heal enough for me to fly properly-“

“Lucifer,” she persists, and he sighs heavily.

“As I said, or tried to say- before, I would do it again, Detective. And again.”

The tears she had been holding back spill over and she tries, and fails, to stifle the sob that escapes with them.

“Detective?” he presses, bewildered at her sudden breakdown. “Are you… quite all right?”

She sinks onto the edge of the bed, face in her hands, and wrestles to regain control of herself. He hovers behind her, torn between trying to offer comfort and trying to back away from her, unsure which would be the best course of action.

“Wh-why aren’t you angry with me, Lucifer?” she stammers, “I have been a truly horrible friend to you, and a terrible excuse for a decent person. You can’t be – you can’t still be willing to just… throw yourself into danger for… for _me._ I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve _you_.”

He hesitates, and the warm weight of his palm falls lightly on her shoulder. “Well, you know I don’t lie. And you are worth infinitely more to me than my immortal life. I meant what I said at the trial for Deputy Warden Perry, Detective. You are _truly_ good.”

“I almost got you _killed.”_ She whimpers, and the hand tightens on her shoulder.

“Detective,” he sounds exhausted again. “I find I would like to reassure you, but I’m too bloody weak to scoot that far. Would you be so kind as to move over here, please?” She turns to look at him in disbelief, and he leans back against the headboard, opening his arms in invitation. She hesitates a moment, but he makes a beckoning movement and she doesn’t try to resist further. She settles against him and his left arm wraps around her shoulders, his cheek resting on top of her head and she feels his sigh ruffle her hair.

“And now I’ve put you in a position where you’re trying to comfort me for feeling guilty about plotting to kill you,” she sniffles against him, and he chuckles darkly.

“Yes, irony is a cruel mistress, is she not?” His arm tightens around her shoulders, though, and she leans into him. “But, Detective, you told me that the priest told you the vial contained a sedative, not a toxin.”

“Yes, but-“

“And then he was supposed to perform an exorcism which, at worst (so far as you knew), would send me back to Hell, a place you knew I’d already been for eons.”

“Yes! And-“

“So, by my understanding- correct me if I’m wrong- that doesn’t quite add up to plotting to kill me. You agreed to sedate me to allow a process to take place that would supposedly ensure the safety of everyone on Earth from yours truly. If I were truly the menace that Kinley believes I am, this would be a laudable effort by all counts.”

“But Lucifer, I-“

“Now,” he continues, speaking quietly but firmly. “I have to disagree with the priest’s accounts of me, of course… but to be fair he was working from biased information – as were you – and under the divine influence of one of my siblings. Most humans do not react to divinity well, Detective. The fact that you’ve seen my face _and_ my wings and are still in possession of your wits is remarkable. Linda didn’t react well to my face and her introduction was nowhere near as traumatic as yours. By the time she saw my wings, divinity was a bit old hat for her.”

“I shouldn’t have taken him at his word. He was a total stranger-“

“Who wore the guise of a trusted position, and presented himself as a subject matter expert in the field you were researching. I’m not saying you didn’t make a… a rather _large_ mistake, Detective – when have you _ever_ taken evidence from a single, biased source before?? I’m simply saying that… once you recovered yourself you put a stop to your plans and took steps to try to fix it. You are _still_ taking steps to fix it, and that speaks well for you. It’s what makes you _truly good._ ”

She lets out a shuddering breath against his shoulder, and raises her eyes to meet his, so full of sadness. “Do I wish you had reacted differently? Yes. Do I wish you had spoken with me before you ran away? _Yes._ Did I truly expect either of those things to happen? Not a chance in, well, Hell. I _know_ how humans respond to my face, it’s what I’ve used to punish the guilty in Hell for eons upon eons. It’s… it’s a manifestation of how I feel about myself when I’m forced to enact that part of me. I _am_ a monster, and humans respond to me appropriately.”

“Why do you think you’re a monster, Lucifer?” she queries shyly. “Once I got past the shock of seeing your face, I don’t… I don’t see that about you at all.”

“Oh, Detective, I don’t think I’m a monster, I _know_ I am one,” he huffs a broken laugh. “My Father must have seen it in me from the very beginning- why else would he cast me into Hell in the first place? My mother did nothing to stop it, my siblings all turned away. Thousands of them, Detective, and not one had a word to spare to defend my character. Humanity has been blaming me for their misdeeds for as long as you’ve been around. Even Mazikeen has turned against me several times, now. Then you.... At some point I simply accepted that they can’t all be wrong… so it must be me. _I_ am wrong, there is something rotten inside me. I am… unworthy… of a life with enjoyment and friendship, and…” He stops speaking, eyes glistening with tears he will not let fall. His hand tentatively strokes her hair. “It doesn’t matter. Though I am not quite the monster that your Kinley believed me to be, I am _still_ a monster. But I promise you that you will be safe from me. If you have patience enough, once I am well, I’ll not darken your doorstep again, Detective.”

“If you’re trying to make me feel better, you’re doing a shitty job,” she mumbles against his chest. “You think I don’t know you’re planning to hightail it back to Hell at the first opportunity? I found the video you left me, Lucifer, and if you think that knowing you’re back in that… that _pit_ because of me is going to make _me_ feel safer, or better, you need to know that you _are wrong._ I don’t want you anywhere but right _here_ , beside me, so I can show you every day how much you mean to me.” She pushes back, the better to meet his eyes in challenge. “You think Trixie would be happy, knowing you’re not around? Do you think Ella wouldn’t be sad you’re gone? What about Linda? You think she wouldn’t be worrying about your state of mind as you’re wallowing down there? Even Amenadiel is worried about you, and how long you’ve been alone down there.” His expression is pure, wide-eyed disbelief as her voice grows in volume and fury borne of desperation. _He’s not listening, I need to make him believe me._ “Am I getting through to you yet, Lucifer? We want you to stay here with us. We’re your friends. We love you.” His eyes are still blank, struggling to process what she’s saying. She reaches to cup his face with her hand, drawing his gaze to meet hers. She holds it until he’s present, sees the clarity in his mahogany depths that means he’s finally mentally _with her_. “Do you understand? We love you. _I love you. Please don’t leave.”_

His breath leaves him in an unsteady exhalation, and his brow contracts as he tries to understand. His hand moves from her hair to gently cradle her jaw in the palm of his broad hand, as though she were made of the thinnest spun glass. She feels the roughness of the healing wound against her cheek and she leans into it, holding his eyes with her own, willing him to believe her with every fiber of her being.

“Detective…” he breathes, his tone placating, and she’s suddenly afraid of what he might be about to say. She darts forward, pressing her soft lips to his dry, cracked ones as he makes a startled noise in the back of his throat. He freezes, and just as he begins to gather a response they’re jilted apart by the strident ringing of a phone. Chloe checks hers.

“It’s not mine,” she laughs breathlessly.

“That’s a first,” Lucifer’s tongue flickers across his lips as he clumsily retrieves his phone from the mattress next to him, clearing his throat. “Yes, hello?”

His eyes don’t leave hers as he presses the phone to his ear, and she doesn’t move away from him. He stiffens a little as a low female voice emanates from the speaker, but he doesn’t loosen his arm around her shoulders. “Ah, yes, Eve, darling, good morning.” Her stomach sinks a little at the residual warmth in his voice. “Mmhm, and how did your interview with Daniel go? I trust he was a perfect gentleman. No, I’ve spoken to Bashir already today, and we’re in luck. He happened to owe me a favor, so you won’t be receiving any more visitors from him about that necklace. No, I assured him that you’re far too innocent to have anything to do with any thievery. Mmhm. Did you tell Daniel about her? Good, good. Oh. Well… no, that’s not… Dalton’s Place? No, it’s not a person, it’s a bar. Honestly, Detective Douche… No darling, you’ve done wonderfully. I’m afraid I’m still indisposed, but we’ll have a chat soon, all right? Enjoy yourself, I know Pierre will take wonderful care of you. Yes. All right, good-bye love.”

He groans after he disconnects the call. “You’re going to need to let Daniel know that he’s on the wrong trail. He’s going to try to track down people named Dalton, when he needs to be heading to a bar called Dalton’s Place. The woman he’s looking for is likely there prowling for her next mark.”

“An assassin?” Chloe’s eyes widen in surprise.

“What? No!” Lucifer chuckles. ”This Odessa is apparently a jewelry thief. She’s likely the one that made off with your Pablo’s Desert Mirage necklace that Bashir wanted so badly for his beloved Mira.”

“Are you done eating?” She asks, gesturing to the plate he set aside. He nods and she gathers it up. “I’ll take this down to the kitchen and call Dan with your tip. Why don’t you find a movie, and I’ll come back up to sit with you, if you want company?”

“Detective, you needn’t-“ She lifts an eyebrow at him and he sighs. “I’ll likely be asleep by the time you make it back up, but I hope you know you are always welcome.” She gives him a smile and leans in to ruffle his unruly curls before turning to leave the room.

*****************************

Dan takes too much of her time probing for details that she doesn’t have about Odessa and Dalton’s Place. She gently points him back to Eve if he has further questions and cuts him off every time he tries to start a new tirade against Lucifer. She refuses to get into Dan’s unreasonable attitude toward Lucifer right now, especially since she _knows_ Lucifer can hear her. Hell, he can probably hear _Dan_. _Not that Dan is saying anything he hasn’t already said to his face…_ She sends Linda and Ella a text, updating them on Lucifer’s overall condition, then settles in to finish the dishes. She tries not to think too much about the fact that she just told the devil that she loves him. She tries even harder not to think about the fact that he didn’t say it back. _Of course he didn’t say it back, you tried to kill him, you idiot. He doesn’t lie, he’s not going to say it just because you did. Like Dan did. Like Pierce did._ Would he have said it, if she’d told him before all this went down? If she’d told him on Forest Clay’s balcony, instead of telling him that he wasn’t the devil, not to her? If she’d told him she loved him then, instead of denying him, again, as he desperately tried to tell her the truth of him?

It’s just after noon when she finds her way back to Lucifer’s room. She taps lightly on the door, peeking in when she doesn’t get a response. He’s asleep, slumped against the headboard, another action flick playing quietly on the TV. She creeps quietly into the room. Trixie will be home around 3:30, so Chloe wants to spend as much time next to Lucifer as she can until then. Every little bit of comfort she can give, she wants to offer. She settles onto the mattress next to him, sitting against the headboard, and he slumps over further, curling into her side until his head is nearly in her lap. She laughs to herself as he wriggles until he finds a comfortable position, then settles her hand in his hair, lightly threading her fingers into his curls. She sets the alarm on her phone so she’ll wake in time to meet Trixie outside the house. She forgot to do a test run to see if she can make it to the bus stop without causing Lucifer to go into a seizure. They’ll need to do that tomorrow. Maybe, with the way he’s recovering, she’ll be able to make it there. The faint sounds of explosions and squealing tires come from the television, but her attention is on the warm shoulders pressing against her thigh, the trusting head resting in her lap, and she tucks in for a much-needed nap.

Lucifer awakens when his face starts vibrating. At first, he attributes it to a new, unpleasant effect of the poison, then he realizes it’s merely… an alarm? His pillow is delightfully warm and soft, but his phone must be underneath it. His hand gropes for it to shut it off and he registers a gasp as his hand encounters more soft warmth. He turns his head to find the Detective leaning over him, stifling a smirk, then turns his head back again to find her thigh firmly in his grasping hand. He pushes himself up weakly and manages to flop backward like a newborn giraffe, but at least he’s no longer on her person.

“I am so sorry, Detective, I wouldn’t have-“ He stammers, and her laughter calms his panicked heartbeat.

“Lucifer, it’s okay. I didn’t think when I put my phone in my pocket, and I couldn’t reach it with your head there. I’ve got to go downstairs to catch Trixie, though. Do you need anything before I go?”

“No, Detective, I’m… feeling quite well, actually. Go see to your Urchin.”

“I’ll try to keep her busy so she’s not too bothersome.” Her tone is apologetic.

“Beatrice is not a bother. We… have an understanding, of sorts.” A tiny smile quirks at the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone that the devil has a soft spot for my daughter.” She giggles, and slides off the bed. His smile widens and softens as he watches her leave, trying to stifle the feeling of the slow tide of discomfort rising as she moves further away.

“Oh, Detective, it’s not only your offspring that lives in the devil’s soft spot,” he murmurs to himself.

**************************

When Chloe sweeps her daughter into a joyful embrace on the stoop of the apartment, Trixie knows she’s finally got her mother back. She has a strong feeling she knows who she has to thank for it, too, and she knows he’s upstairs. She starts making plans almost immediately to sneak her way up to say hello, but Chloe is ready for her, and has plans of her own.

“Okay Monkey. Homework, then it’s time to get started making dinner. It’s Taco Tuesday!”

“Can I go hang out with Lucifer while I do my homework, Mommy?”

“No, sweetie, he is really, really tired. He was barely awake when I checked him earlier, but hopefully he’ll be awake later and we can bring him some dinner, okay?”

“Is Daddy coming for dinner?” Trixie feels a little bad for hoping the answer is no, he’s been really mean about Lucifer lately and she doesn’t want her parents to fight again so soon.

“No, sweetie, he’s working tonight, but maybe next week.”

“Okay,” Trixie agrees cheerfully, and spreads her homework over the breakfast bar. She works diligently, but Chloe catches her giggling quietly to herself several times and finally perches on the stool next to her daughter.

“All right, Trix, what’s so funny?”

“Nothing Mommy, I’m just getting some help with my homework.” She holds up her phone to show a text conversation… with Lucifer.

“Trix… I thought we were going to let him sleep?” She sighs, exasperated.

“You said I couldn’t go see him, you didn’t say I couldn’t text him!”

“You’re right, I didn’t. He’s just been so tired, and-“

“I told you, Detective,” Lucifer’s voice booms from above, “Your spawn is not a bother.”

Chloe laughs and throws up her hands in defeat. “Fine. Take your homework and go see Lucifer.”

“Yayyyy!” Trixie squeals and stuffs her papers back in her pack, hurtling up the stairs with an excited, “Lucifer!!!”

“Easy, Trix!” Chloe calls, just in time to hear a muffled “Ooomph!” erupt from his room, nearly drowned out by Trixie’s giggles.

“Yes, hello Urchin,” a small gasp, “I do believe I missed you, too.”

“Of course you did,” her daughter says, with absolutely certainty. “I told you, you’re family. Mom wouldn’t have made you stay away from us.”

“You… may have something there, Spawn.” He clears his throat and she pictures him patting her awkwardly to get her to let go. “Now, you had questions about this ridiculous math problem… what in heaven _are_ they teaching you at this educational institution?”

Chloe lingers at the foot of the stairs, listening to her daughter and her devil puzzling through elementary school math, then science, then history, alternating banter and bad puns, and the affection between the two is so palpable she can feel it pressing against her heart. A little over an hour later, Trixie quietly comes downstairs, backpack in tow.

“Homework done?” Chloe prods gently.

“Yep!” Trixie chirps happily. “Lucifer fell asleep while I was doing history, so I finished without him. It was probably extra boring for him, since he was probably there for most of it. Or knows someone who was.”

“Trix?” Her daughter looks up at her curiously. “Why… why do you think Lucifer would know someone who was there during your history studies? Are you guys doing recent history now?”

“Noooo…” Trixie drawls slowly. “Because he’s the devil. He’s been here for a _lot_ of history, and if he wasn’t here, then he’s probably talked to someone about it down in Hell.”

“Sweetie…” Chloe glances up the stairs before focusing back on her daughter. “You know? That Lucifer’s the devil?”

“Uh, yeah, Mom.” Trixie’s too polite to roll her eyes yet, but the tone is there. The one that says _“Duh!”_ “He’s only been talking about since we met him. You know he doesn’t lie…”

“Right, you’re right. He doesn’t lie.” Chloe nods quickly. “And… you’re okay? You’re not scared?”

Her daughter looks at her like she’s sprouted a second head. “It’s _Lucifer_. He’s my friend. I could never be scared of him.” She says it with such absolute confidence that Chloe chokes up for a moment. She scoops her little girl into a tight hug, and she giggles and squeezes back. “Is it time to start dinner now?”

“Yeah, baby. Let’s start dinner. You want to do the salsa again?”

“Yeah!!!” She bolts for the kitchen, giggling, and Chloe chases after her, heart lighter than it has been since before her world was turned on its ear.


	10. Taco Tuesday

They fall into their Taco Tuesday routine, Trixie tries to show off some of the knife tricks Maze has taught her as she’s carefully chopping the vegetables for the salsa, and Chloe stops her before she can get started. The sizzling of the browning beef and the tantalizing smell of the spices all slot into place, helping Chloe find a balance that’s been sorely missing for the past few weeks, and Trixie revels in having her mother back with her. Trixie talks about her time with Dan, and Chloe makes all the appropriate responses. The evening nursing shift arrives and go to check on their patient. Trixie watches them go wistfully, but she knows her mother won’t let her follow. She turns back to her preparations, hoping they can all eat together.

“Can Lucifer come downstairs for dinner?”

“No,” Chloe answers carefully, “He’s still pretty weak, sweetie, the stairs would be dangerous for him.”

“What _happened_ to him, Mommy? You said he got hurt, but he looks okay except for those weird lines on his skin, and how sleepy he is.”

“He did get hurt, he jumped in front of someone that was trying to hurt m… someone, and he got hurt instead. And… he got a wound that made him sick. He’s feeling a little better, but it’s going to take some time for him to recover.” Chloe still has to figure out how to confess to her daughter what she nearly did. It doesn’t feel right _not_ to tell her, but… maybe not tonight.

They’re just finishing dinner prep as the nursing team descends the stairs.

“We had to wake him for our rounds,” Tina informs her. “He didn’t really wake all the way, but his fever is spiking again. Has he been lucid today at all?”

“Yes, every time I or my daughter have been with him he’s been chatting. He did have another big fever spike last night, though and he has been very sleepy today. Should I take the cooling packs up to him?”

“Yeah, that’ll help. He still shouldn’t be trying to walk yet, either, he could barely sit up with Troy’s help. Do you have a backup set of cooling packs to get in the freezer once you take a set up to him?”

Chloe doesn’t, so they leave her with a second set, with an admonition to call them if something arises that she can’t handle.

“Okay Trixie-babe, let me get these cooling packs to Lucifer to help with his fever, and we’ll have dinner.”

“Can’t we eat with Lucifer, Mommy?” Trixie wheedles.

“If he’s awake, I’ll ask him, but if he’s sleeping it’s probably best if we let him sleep, sweetie. It’ll help him heal. I’ll be back down in a minute. Why don’t you set the table, hm?”

Trixie nods, shoulders slumping dejectedly, and Chloe pulls her in for a hug before retrieving the cooling packs and hurrying to Lucifer. She enters the room quietly, and her heart sinks a little at the sight that greets her. The shadows under his eyes have darkened further, and the webbing of his veins are more visible again. She peers at his hand, but the wound looks good and the swelling hasn’t returned, so she lets herself hope. She positions the cooling packs around him. He tilts his head toward her touch when she reaches to brush his sweaty hair away from his brow, and his eyes briefly appear behind his slitted lids.

“Lucifer?” she whispers, but his reply is incoherent. The flush on his cheeks and neck is hectic, and he’s sweating heavily.

 _“You’re apparently the best ice pack there is.”_ His words ring in her head, and she sighs in frustration. She doesn’t want Trixie to see him like this, especially if he has another fever dream. “I’ll be back up later, okay? After Trixie’s asleep.” She presses her hands to his cheeks for a moment, and she’s sure she doesn’t imagine his sigh of relief. Nor does she imagine the quiet whine when she pulls away. She looks back at him tossing weakly in the bed as she goes, leaving the door open – the better to hear if he has trouble.

Dinner is subdued when Chloe returns to the kitchen. Chloe explains that Lucifer has a high fever, and the cooling packs will help bring it down, but that he’s had a few bad dreams before, so Trixie shouldn’t be afraid if she hears him crying out.

“Do you think he needs Ms Alien?” she asks earnestly. “I don’t need her much anymore, and I don’t mind if Lucifer needs to borrow her!”

“I don’t know, babe, but you can offer her when he’s awake again.” Chloe pauses, then continues tentatively. “Lucifer seems to do better if I’m nearby when his fever is high. Would it bother you if I slept in his room tonight?”

“No,” Trixie replies casually, “You always sleep in _my_ room when I have a fever, and Lucifer is _family_.”

“You’re right, I do,” Chloe grins at her daughter. “And yes, he is.”

They take turns checking on him for the remainder of the evening, but the fever keeps its hold on him. She hears his phone ringing several times, and finally texts Amenadiel with an update, in case he was the one calling. While she’s at it, she texts Linda and Ella with an update as well. She checks Trixie’s homework, and they settle in for a movie before bedtime. Trixie snuggles in close, and Chloe realizes they haven’t done anything like this since… since she saw Lucifer’s face. A fresh wave of guilt washes over her, this time relating to her daughter.

“Trix?” She ventures, and her daughter turns her bright eyes toward her. Nearly the same shade as Lucifer’s, Chloe notices, and a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. “I’m really sorry I’ve not been myself lately. I was… trying to figure something out, and I think I finally did.”

“Lucifer helped you figure it out, didn’t he?” Trixie asks confidently.

“What makes you think that?”

“Because you started acting funny when Lucifer stopped visiting. Then we left for vacation, and you acted _really_ funny the entire time we were gone, and after we got back. But when you went back to work, you sounded more like you usually do, and you always remembered to call and check on me like normal. You didn’t do that before you went back to work, and Lucifer is _always_ at work with you, to keep you safe.”

“He is always there, isn’t he? And he’s _very_ good at keeping me safe,” Chloe agrees readily, and her throat tightens. “Trixie, I need to talk to you.”

“Am I in trouble?” Trixie asks anxiously, recognizing her mother’s serious tone.

“No, sweetie,” Chloe chuffs a watery laugh, “But I think I’m going to be in trouble with _you_ , when we’re finished here.”

“ _You’ll_ be in trouble with _me?”_ Trixie parrots, perplexed. “What happened, Mom?”

“You know how… you know that Lucifer is the devil…”

“Yeah… he tells us all the time.”

“Well, I’m nowhere near as smart as you are, and… and I didn’t believe him.”

“What, _never?_ Mom, Lucifer doesn’t lie!”

“I know he doesn’t, sweetie, and I believe him _now_.” Chloe assures her. “But… but when I first believed him, I got really scared. Really, _really_ scared, and… and I ran away, and I took you with me.”

“Our vacation was to run away from Lucifer?” Trixie asks suspiciously. “Is that why we went to all those churchy places?”

“Yes,” Chloe sighs, “I wanted to… research. To get more information, so… so I could not be scared anymore.”

 _“Mom.”_ Trixie says sternly, “They _hate_ Lucifer there. Whenever I go with abuelita, it makes me so mad, the things they say about him!”

“You’re absolutely right, Trixie, and… the more I read, the more scared I got. Then, someone came to talk to me, a priest, and… he had an idea that he said would help me not be scared anymore.”

“What was his idea?” Trixie’s eyes narrow dangerously.

“His idea was… a plan to send Lucifer away from here, back to… the place he came from before. And he wanted me to help him.”

“Did you help him?” Trixie asks quietly. “Is that why Lucifer is sick?”

Chloe marvels at her daughter’s quick mind. “I… almost helped him. I said yes – but I changed my mind!” She implores at her daughter’s strangled exclamation. “I changed my mind, Trix, and told him I _wouldn’t_ help him, because once I was around Lucifer again, I… I wasn’t afraid anymore, he was… he was just like you said, he’s just Lucifer. My partner, my best friend.”

Her daughter pulls away from her side, scooting across the couch with a wary expression. “Are you the reason Lucifer is sick?”

“I… sort of, yes.” Chloe’s eyes shine with tears, but she doesn’t look away from her daughter’s accusing glare. “The priest gave me a bottle, he said it was something to make Lucifer sleep, so the priest could send him away. I took it to Lucifer’s, to show him, to _tell him_ that he was in danger, what I almost did to him. But, while I was there, the priest was too. He took it, and put it in Lucifer’s cup.”

Trixie’s eyes start to overflow and Chloe tries to reach out to her but she pulls away. “I figured it out before he could drink it, but when I knocked the cup out of his hands, he cut himself with the glass, and that’s how it made him sick. He got hurt right after that, and even though his wound has healed, he’s still sick from the stuff in the bottle.”

Chloe’s heart tears into pieces at the look of betrayal in her daughter’s face. The pain in her chest is worse now than it was when she was confessing to Lucifer, and Chloe hadn’t thought that was possible. But Lucifer had understood her reasoning, even if he was hurt by it. Trixie… Trixie doesn’t understand, and her hurt isn’t that of a friend (or more than a friend) being betrayed by a friend, it is the pain of a child betrayed by a parent.

 _Like the pain Lucifer felt when his Father turned on him?_ Her brain posits, and her breath catches in her throat. Trixie brushes the tears from her eyes and slides off the couch, walking slowly up the stairs without another word.

***********************

Lucifer emerges from the fiery depths of his fever even more confused than usual. His eyes are bleary and his skin feels stiff with dried sweat, but the confounding factor this time is the tiny, shivering body wrapped protectively around his torso. He must make some noise upon regaining consciousness, because the arms tighten around him.

“Lucifer?” The Urchin’s voice is thready, as though she’s been crying and he finds that his arms fit around her automatically in an awkward embrace.

“Beatrice?” He croaks, puzzled. “Are you quite all right, child?”

“I don’t knoooooow!” She wails against his chest, and his muddled brain flails for a way to soothe her.

“Would you like to talk about it?” he pries, gently, pulling Linda’s favorite question from the depths of his befuddled memories. The girl is silent for a long time, if it weren’t for her continued trembling, he might have thought she had fallen asleep. Her face stays buried in his chest, and he tries to cast around for what may have upset her so since he last saw her. He glances anxiously at the closed door, gauging the current level of his pain. It feels like Chloe is nearby, perhaps in her bedroom? “Is your mother all right?”

“She’s _fine,”_ but the child’s breath hitches in a sob, and her arms tighten around him in what feels like desperation.

“But you’re not,” he asserts confidently. “Come, Beatrice, tell me what’s upset you so.”

“Mom told me that she tried to _hurt_ you,” comes the reply, muffled against his chest, and so quiet that if not for his enhanced hearing capabilities he would have missed it entirely.

“Ah,” he acknowledges. _So the Detective chose to confess to her spawn as well. Of course she did, she is_ truly _good._ “Yes, well. She realized her mistake in the end, Offspring. She’s been working very hard to make up for the harm that she’s caused with that mistake, and we certainly can’t hold her responsible for someone like that priest taking advantage of her fears.”

“But it’s _her_ fault that you’re sick!” This comes louder, more brokenly, and her shivering intensifies. Lucifer awkwardly pats her back, rubbing his broad palm in small circles the way he would to calm the Detective, and it seems to work.

“It would seem that it’s the priest’s fault that I’m sick, since he’s the one that actually tried to poison me,” Lucifer points out honestly. “Your mother tried to save me, which is a point of honor for her, as I’m fairly certain she was still pretty frightened of me when she actually decided to do so. And she’s been very helpful in managing this entire sickness lark – this is all new to me, you know, I’ve never been sick before. I can’t say that I like it, Urchin, I don’t know _how_ you humans manage.” He tries to lighten the conversation, and she takes the bait.

“You’ve _never_ been sick? _Ever?”_ She pulls back to look up at him, eyes wide.

“Devil, darling,” he reminds her gently, and she giggles. “Before that I was an angel, and we don’t get ill… apparently unless we’re lucky enough to come across a priest with access to a heavenly poison, of course,” he adds wryly, and she gives him a tiny smile at his expression. “Truly though, Beatrice – how are you feeling about what your mother told you? I suppose it’s safe to assume, since you are here and attached to me in all your sticky glory, that you’re not terrified of me?”

“I can’t be terrified of you, you’re _Lucifer,”_ the child scoffs, and his heart swells with a warmth that has nothing to do with his fever. She struggles for words, and finally says, “I’m mad, I guess. And scared.”

“Why are you mad, then?”

“Because she… she was going to _hurt_ you. And, when we left for vacation I kept asking what was wrong and she _wouldn’t tell me._ ” The frustration in the child’s voice is evident, and he chuckles.

“Yes, secrets can be very frustrating,” he agrees readily. “But, if it helps, I do think your mother was only trying to do what she thought was best to protect you. At the time, she perceived me as a danger, and so removing the two of you from my vicinity was- as far as she knew- in both your best interests. And you know, Urchin, she’s not entirely wrong…”

“What does that mean?”

“If I were stronger, if I were a _better_ Devil, I would leave the two of you alone. I would remove myself and my influence from your lives, and let you be happy.” Sadness creeps into his voice, and his eyes are soft as they meet her bewildered gaze.

“Lucifer, you’re _family,”_ she reiterates firmly. “Family is _always_ better together, and if you leave, we’ll all be really _really_ sad.”

“I don’t think I’m strong enough, Spawn,” he admits reluctantly. “I tried to leave once before, but… I was too weak to stay away.”

“Good,” she declares with satisfaction, “I don’t want you to stay away, and neither does my mom.”

“All right then, so we’ve pinpointed why you’re angry. Why are you frightened?”

“I… Mommy loves you,” the girl confides softly. “If she loves you, and she was still thinking about hurting you – what if she finds out something about me that scares her? Like… what your family did to you?”

“Oh! Beatrice, if that’s what you’re worried about my dear, I am delighted to put you at ease,” he strokes her back in relief. “There is absolutely nothing that you could tell your mother, or that your mother could find out about you that would cause her to turn away from you, darling. She is incredibly fierce in your defense. I have personally seen it. She has nothing but your best interests at heart, you have _my_ word on that.”

“And your word is your bond,” she repeats his own words back to him with careful diction, and he nods solemnly.

“I’ve already turned your mother’s entire world view upside down simply by existing, Offspring.” He smiles at her, and she returns it, hesitant. “So long as you don’t open her eyes to any new dimensions or levels of existence, I can guarantee that she will never turn from you. You aren’t hiding any new dimensions, or levels of existence, are you?” He asks, feigning anxiety. “Perhaps in that hideous little stuffed monstrosity of yours?”

She giggles into his hospital gown and shakes her head. “No, Ms Alien only helps with nightmares.”

“Ah, good. Well, you’re perfectly safe then, darling,” he assures her. She gives him another squeeze, then sits up.

“You know, _you’re_ the one who’s sticky now,” she laughs.

“Yes, I’m aware,” he grimaces, feeling the tackiness of dried sweat on his skin. “Perhaps you would be so kind as to fetch me a cloth and a little water? What time is it?” He reaches to check his phone, and finds it’s nearly 8:30. “Gah, I’ll be glad when I’m past this sleeping all day nonsense. I don’t know how you humans manage, sleeping a third of your mortal lives away.”

“Sleeping helps you get better faster,” Trixie says with all the confidence of a child repeating what they’ve been told. She scoots off the bed and goes to retrieve some washing supplies for Lucifer. She runs into her mother at the door with a plate of warmed food and watches her carefully, but without animosity, saying only “He’s awake.”

*********************

Chloe had lingered in the hallway during most of their conversation. She hadn’t followed Trixie immediately, but Lucifer hadn’t woken until she approached the door to his room, and she had wanted to give them time to talk. His gentleness with Trixie, the care he took with his responses warmed her to her core and only cemented her knowledge that she been right in her assessment of him.

She taps on the door, and pokes her head inside. “Are you hungry? I come bearing food?”

“Ahhh, I thought I smelled tacos. Lovely, Detective, thank you,” he purrs. He moves weakly, trying to make his way into a sitting position and Chloe hurries to set the plate on the bedside table and assist. “This weakness is incredibly annoying,” he admits, abashed.

“I know,” she soothes, as she helps him reposition so he can lean against the headboard. “But it’ll pass soon enough.”

“I bloody well hope so,” he mutters, as Trixie re-enters the room, a small basin of water and some towels thrown over her shoulder. “Ah, Beatrice, just what I needed, thank you ever so much.”

“Trix, it’s time to start getting ready for bed. Lucifer’s gonna wash up, and you can come back and visit for a little after you wash up too, okay?”

“Okay,” she agrees slowly, after Lucifer gives her a little nod and a smile.

The water is cool on his heated skin and the Detective’s presence is a soothing balm to the burning inside. Chloe insists on checking the axe wound as he removes the sweaty residue from his chest, since she hasn’t seen it since they removed his stitches and drainage tube at the hospital. She marvels over the improvement in the bruising, now mostly the yellowish-green of late-stage healing with only a slight purple marring closest to the actual wound, which now looks several weeks old, with only a thin scab in place over the original wound.

“Will this leave a scar?” she wonders, as her finger lightly traces the skin alongside it

“No,” he supplies absently, focused on the feel of her cooling fingers on his heated skin. “Only celestial weapons will scar. Though I’m not certain about the wound on my hand. I suppose I’ll find out if celestial poison counts as a weapon when it comes to permanent reminders of injuries.” His tone is wry, but not malicious.

She checks his hand next, and it still appears to be healing well, though the edges are still rougher than the axe wound. “How are your cooling packs?”

“I’m afraid I’ve warmed them right through,” he admits, and she chuckles.

“You do tend to run hot,” she reminds him, and he winks at her.

“Oh, Detective, you have _no_ idea.” He purrs, and she rolls her eyes at him, ignoring the fluttering in her stomach.

“Luckily, the nurses left me a spare set of cooling packs. They should be about ready to switch out, since it looks like your fever isn’t ready to let go yet.” She studies the flush in his cheeks, the dilation of his eyes as he starts to move his hospital gown sleeves back up. “Don’t you want some fresh clothes? That can’t be comfortable…”

He grimaces as he looks at it. “I… really would, but I didn’t want to be a bother.”

“Lucifer,” she sighs, “it’s not a bother for me to make sure you’re as comfortable as you can be, okay? Just a second, I’ll see if I can find-“

“I believe the spares are in that little box on top of the dresser, just there. Yes.” Lucifer directs her search. She helps him remove the sweat-stiff gown and carefully looks away as he wipes down the areas that it had touched again with his damp cloth, then helps slide on the fresh one. He breathes a quiet sigh of relief once they’re finished, speaking softly. “Thank you, Detective, I feel much better now.”

She gathers the now-warm packs, and leaves him with his dinner as she goes to drop his gown in the laundry room and swap out the packs. When she arrives back in his room, he’s cheerfully crunching on his tacos, listening to Trixie chatter, sitting cross-legged at the foot of his bed in her pajamas. Chloe sets the packs aside, opting to wait until Lucifer lays back down to place them around him and perches carefully on the edge of the bed, watching her daughter from the corner of her eye. She sees Trixie watching Lucifer for any sign of discomfort, and she scoots closer to him at his subtle signal. When he relaxes against her, she sees Trixie relax in turn, and knows she’s at least mostly forgiven. She knows that, like Lucifer, Trixie won’t _forget_ her transgression, but she can at least see that her daughter will be able to forgive her.

The three visit while Lucifer enjoys his dinner, then Chloe ushers Trixie off to sleep. Lucifer’s bedside is much less crowded now, with only the single IV pump taking up space. The other monitors were deemed unnecessary this evening, and removed. Trixie sidles in and hugs him and he looks to the Detective for rescue, only to find her smiling fondly at the pair of them. He huffs a laugh and pats her back, thanking her again for the water, and the company before she detaches herself and exits the room with her mother in tow.

He picks up his phone from the bedside table, grimacing at the myriad notifications. He responds to some texts and e-mails regarding Lux business, shrugs off several dozen hopeful queries about visiting the penthouse for entertainment soon, and looks at the missed call log in distaste. Several missed calls from Eve’s hotel and two from Lux, complete with voicemails. He sighs in resignation and dials his mailbox.

4:07 PM “Hiya Luce! It’s Eve- I think I’m doing this right? I’m hoping we can talk soon? I know you’re busy, but… I miss you. Call me back?”

5:26 PM “Hi Lucifer, it’s me, Eve! I was going to head to Lux tonight, I was thinking I might be able to come up and see you, if you’ll be around? I can’t wait to see you! Call me back!”

6:13 PM “Hey Luce, I’m heading for Lux now, see you there!”

6:48 PM “Hiii! I’m here now, are you here? I’ll be at the bar, or on the dance floor!”

7:59 PM “I came upstairs, but it looks like you haven’t been here in a little while… I’ll wait here for a little while in case you want to call?”

This last was from his landline at the penthouse. He checks the time again and decides he may as well call. If nothing else, he can let her know not to expect him so she can go have a good time.

“Lucifer?” The hopeful voice that answers sends a pang of guilt to his gut.

“Yes, hello Eve,” he replies warmly. “I only just got your messages, I’m terribly sorry, I’ve been indisposed for most of today.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine! I’m glad you called! Are you… are you coming home tonight?” She asks hesitantly, and he imagines her biting her lip the way she always does when she’s uncertain about something.

“I’m afraid not, darling,” a sigh of disappointment echoes over the line and he rushes to continue, “Not that I don’t want to see you, but I truly cannot leave here at the moment, I’m… a bit tied up.” He glances ruefully at his IV tubing. Tied up, indeed.

“Where are you?” she asks, all innocent curiosity. “Maybe I can come to you?”

“I’m currently a guest in someone’s home, so unfortunately I’m not able to extend an invitation on their behalf,” he explains gently. “But, darling, you don’t need _me_ to find your excitement. Everything Lux offers is open to you, and you are welcome to it. The staff will make sure you’re taken care of, just… be careful all right? People haven’t changed much in the past several thousand years, it’s still a dangerous world out there.”

“Aw, thanks Luce,” he cringes a little at the nickname, but doesn’t correct her. “I just… miss you. You’re okay, right?”

“I’ll be fine, Eve, really. I appreciate your concern,” he reassures her earnestly, “but please don’t worry about me. Go enjoy your time here. Have fun, and I’ll be in touch when I’m available, okay?”

“Okayy…” she agrees reluctantly. “It’s still good to hear your voice, Luce, I’m glad you called.”

“It’s good to speak to you too, Eve,” he replies softly. “Now go out there and make some friends, hm?”

“Okay,” she giggles, “Bye, Luce!”

“Good night, darling.” He glances up to find Chloe nudging the door open, and gives her a genuine smile as he disconnects the call. “That was fast, Detective. The Spawn must have been tired this evening.”

“She didn’t want a story tonight,” Chloe admits quietly, glancing at the door. “She’s still angry with me.”

“Ah,” he acknowledges artlessly, “I had hoped I had been able to talk her ‘round.”

“You did!” She reassures him quickly, “I, um, heard a good bit of that conversation, and Lucifer, I certainly never would expect you to defend what I did-“

“What you _almost did_ , Detective. I think we’ve already established that this is, overall, the priest’s fault, yes?”

“Yes, alright,” she concedes with a sigh. “But still, what you told her-“

“Is nothing more or less than the truth, Detective.” His gaze doesn’t waver from hers. “I think we’ve also established that _I don’t lie.”_

“We have,” she agrees, and changes the subject. “Are you ready to lay back down with your ice packs now?”

“That depends,” he teases, eyes glinting. “Are you one of those ice packs?”

“Well, I _am_ apparently the best one on the market right now.”

“Indeed you are, darling.”


	11. This Situation Needed More Complications

Several days pass in this new pattern. His fever waxes and wanes, the bags beneath his eyes lighten, and the tracework of veins slowly becomes less visible as his skin regains some of its normal coloring. His strength is returning, and she can see the struggle as he tries to hold onto his fraying patience with being an invalid. He has no more fevered episodes of bleeding light. Amenadiel stops by daily, and they continue to test the distance that Chloe can go before triggering an episode, but she still can’t make it more than a block away from the apartment without needing to rush back, no matter how Lucifer tries to hold it together.

Chloe returns to the apartment after their most recent test and she can hear Lucifer venting his frustration to his brother.

“Have you heard anything from Arael, brother? I can’t… I can’t continue being a burden to the Detective this way, there _must_ be something…”

“I haven’t, but I can check in to see if any progress has been made. You’re improving, Luci, but we don’t-“

“Don’t know how long it will take, I know.” He sighs, and she can picture him running his fingers through his hair in annoyance. “I’ve been trying to keep Eve at arm’s length, hoping she will find a distraction, but she is alarmingly persistent.”

“Eve?” Amenadiel repeats. “Eve is here?”

“Yes,” he hisses, extending the word resentfully. “She calls multiple times a day and I’m running out of excuses without telling her _why_ I’m unable to meet with her.”

Chloe appears in his doorway then, and he smiles at her, beckoning her in.

“Why not just let her visit you?” Chloe asks candidly. “I don’t mind if you want some company, Lucifer, you’ve had other visitors.”

“I have a few reasons, Detective,” his reply is terse. “One, she says she’s here for a party, and I assure you as much I would like to be, I am certainly not up to that at this point in time. For another, Eve doesn’t really know me anymore – she remembers me from a very long time ago, and I’ve changed a lot since we were… friends.”

“And the real reason?” she prods. She knows he’s not up for a party, just talking with Trixie over her homework is still enough to exhaust him.

“I’m afraid once we allow her in, I won’t be able to get her to leave,” he groans. “Eve is a wonderful person, but woefully naïve, and does not take hints _at all_.”

“Did she learn that from you?” Chloe teases, with a grin.

“Please, Detective,” Lucifer scoffs, but returns her grin with a sparkle in his eye. “I’ll have you know I _can_ take hints… and I’m anything but naïve.”

“Luci, how did she even get here?” Amenadiel interjects. “Why would she leave Heaven, knowing that she may not be able to go back?”

“I don’t know, brother, she merely said she was bored, and wanted some excitement.” Lucifer grumbles. “Most of our conversations have been me encouraging her to go out and have fun, hoping she’ll meet some new people, but she seems fixated on me. I’ve been trying to deflect her, but she’s remarkably stubborn.”

Chloe nods. She’s heard several of those conversations, as Lucifer has made no effort to hide them from her. For several of them she’s been sitting beside him, pressed close to ease the effects the poison still has on him.

“Well,” he exhales, defeated. “Perhaps we can try the stairs today? I made it to the bathroom on my own yesterday, and I am desperate for a change of scenery.”

“I can help you downstairs Luci, but if I’m going to check in with Arael, I won’t be around to help you get back upstairs…”

“Brother, I’d rather crawl up the stairs on my hands and knees than ask you come back and carry me up here,” Lucifer threatens, and Amenadiel stifles a chuckle. “If you would be so kind as to assure I don’t bloody well tumble down the stairs and land on my temporarily fragile face, I would appreciate it.”

Lucifer manages to make it down the stairs with very little help required, but he collapses onto the sofa immediately, what color he had swiftly draining from his face as Amenadiel hovers anxiously.

“I’ll be all right in a moment, brother, don’t fuss.” Lucifer gripes, weakly waving a hand as though shooing a rather lethargic fly. “Would you mind going to check with Arael and Raphael? Surely they’ve had time to find out _something_ , it’s been years…”

“Sure, Luci. I’ll let you know what they say,” his brother agrees easily enough. “Oh, and I’m supposed to remind you that Linda will be by this afternoon for your session. She says no more excuses, she’s coming to _you_.”

“Thank you, Amenadiel. Truly.” Lucifer grimaces, and Chloe chuckles to herself as Amenadiel exits through the back patio door. The patio is screened from view, so he can unfurl his wings and take off directly, which is exactly what he does.

“You know, Lucifer, Dan will be here to pick up Trixie tonight for his weekend. If you feel up to it, maybe we can arrange for you to meet Eve this weekend somewhere? I don’t have to be there _with_ you, I just need to be in the vicinity. If you want privacy, I can arrange to meet Ella for lunch at a restaurant or a park somewhere near where you’ll be. It would give you a change of scenery…”

“And give you a much-needed break from yours truly…” he muses. “Yes, that could work, Detective. You’ve been cooped up here just as much as I have, and with far more energy to fret about it.”

“That’s not what I’m saying, Lucifer,” she argues. “I know you’re frustrated being stuck here, but this might help. Get you some fresh air and sunshine…”

“And hopefully get Eve off my back.” He finishes for her, deciding. “I’ll talk to her about it when she calls today. Do you have a suggestion for where we should go?”

They debate options, somewhere he won’t have to walk far for seating, somewhere with options nearby for Chloe to spend some time, though he insists he doesn’t _need_ privacy for his meetup with Eve. They settle on a location, and Chloe texts Ella about lunch. They haven’t had much chance to really talk since Chloe confessed her role in Lucifer’s condition, and she hopes Ella will accept the invite so they can talk. She throws open the patio door so Lucifer can enjoy some fresh air, pops some popcorn, and they settle in for a movie, Chloe’s choice today. Lucifer perks up when she picks up Bones where she last left off.

“Detective! I had no idea you were a fan!” his tone is gleeful and she smiles in response.

“I’d never watched it before you mentioned it, but I got curious, and started watching. You really think I’m like Booth?”

“Well, Booth has a bit more willingness to bend the rules than you do, Detective, but he _is_ the one with the badge and the gun. And I am the consultant with the uncanny ability to think outside the box.”

“Hey now,” she protests playfully, “ _you_ bend the rules enough for both of us.”

“I do, don’t I?” he muses proudly, and she elbows him gently in the ribs. Then she notices how close they’re sitting. She didn’t even think about it when she sat next to him, just snuggled right in, and he seems just as comfortable having her there resting against him, his arm automatically resting on her shoulder as though it’s always been there.

She must stiffen at the realization, because he stirs from his absent musing to look at her.

“Are you all right, Detective?”

“I’m… fine,” she answers, a little surprised. “It’s just… this is nice, being here with you.”

“Is it?” He seems pleased at her confession, if a little confused.

“It really is,” she confirms, relaxing back into him as they watch as Booth and the team race against time to rescue Brennan and Hodgins from the Gravedigger’s clutches. Lucifer dozes off halfway through the episode, and Chloe relaxes further as his cheek rests against her head. She doesn’t fall asleep this time, finally having caught up on her rest, but his even breathing and steady (normal!) heat soothes her as she focuses on his solid heartbeat beneath her cheek.

Amenadiel returns as she finishes her third episode. He furls his wings and taps on the patio door, and Chloe beckons him inside with the arm not wrapped around Lucifer’s waist. He enters, a small smile on his lips as he studies the pair before him.

“Any news?” Chloe murmurs, reluctant to wake the sleeper draped over her.

“Arael thinks he’s found a solution. Once Raphael looks it over, we’ll be able to do a trial.”

“How long will that take?”

“Hopefully not long,” his expression is only slightly doubtful.

“And… we trust Raphael to be truthful in how helpful this remedy will be?”

“I’ll admit that there is no love lost between Raphael and Lucifer, but Raphael’s pride in his healing reputation will ensure that he does his best work here.”

Chloe bobs her head in agreement. “We’ll just hope for some progress, then. Thank you for checking for us, Amenadiel.”

Amenadiel stays until Linda arrives for Lucifer’s session. He’s muddled when he wakes, but isn’t feverish and snaps out of it quickly. Amenadiel offers to help him back upstairs to his room, but he declines, not ready to give up the illusion of normalcy.

Amenadiel takes his leave after Linda arrives, and Chloe excuses herself to do laundry and some other random chores upstairs. She pops in some earbuds to give them privacy and pulls up her playlist, dancing and singing along as she changes the sheets on Lucifer’s bed, then cleans the bathroom, losing herself in the calming day-to-day patterns of life.

****************************

“So, Lucifer, you’ve had a busy week, I’m glad to see you up and about.” Linda begins, once the room has cleared. “Where would you like to start today?”

Lucifer runs his hand through his unruly hair, badly in need of a wash, now. “I hardly know, Doctor. Most of my week has been spent sleeping, and the rest has been… an utter state of constant confusion. I suppose we could start with where we left off, at my last session when I was concerned about the Detective’s denial?”

“That seems like a good place to start. Your suspicions about her state of mind weren’t far off the mark, she certainly was far from being as ‘okay’ as she claimed.” Linda feels a pang of guilt for dismissing Lucifer’s paranoia about Chloe’s “okayness” with realizing his truth. Chloe had been _much_ less okay than she’d claimed, and she had basically advised Lucifer to _let her_ tell him that she wasn’t okay. She’d had no way to know that Chloe’s way of telling him she _wasn’t_ okay was literally to take part in plotting his murder, but still… talk about a failure to gauge a situation correctly.

“Indeed,” he agrees dryly, but doesn’t gloat about it, which immediately garners her attention. “I’ll just go over the highlights, Doctor, since I don’t know what you already know?”

“Yes, let’s do that.” She settles in to listen as he shares his initial excitement about his date with Chloe, the rescheduling on her part, followed by what he remembers of the evening his poisoning and axe wound occurred. He goes on to share Chloe’s confession about her involvement with Kinley, his hospital conversation with Ella and his plans to return to Hell once he’s well enough. His confrontation with Chloe and using his devil face to force the issue, and how that had led to the discovery that her physical touch helped alleviate the pain from the poison.

“She touched my face, Doctor.” He’s still utterly baffled. “She didn’t seem afraid, only asked if it hurt me. But she admitted to being terrified. I don’t understand at all.”

“It seems that there is a significant difference between being terrified of _you_ , and being terrified of everything that your existence indicates. I have to admit, I still have trouble wrapping my brain around the larger picture that surrounds you.”

“But you’re not frightened of me?” He asks, trying to hide the hope in his voice.

“No, Lucifer, of course not. I meant what I said to Reese when he came barging into our session. You’re my friend, and you’re a _good man._ ”

His brow creases further in bewilderment, and he shakes his head, mussing his hair with his hands again as he does when he’s agitated. He pauses for a moment, then continues with his narrative, including his visit with his brother Raphael and the time spent here in the apartment with Chloe and Trixie.

“I don’t know what to make of the entire situation, Doctor,” he pinches the bridge of his nose as though he has a headache. “She was terrified enough to plot to send me back to Hell by following a complete stranger’s plan, but then suddenly she’s not frightened of me anymore, allows me into her home _with her offspring_ , then tells me she loves me and… and kisses me? I can’t… should I suggest she make an appointment with you, Doctor? This can’t be healthy for her.”

“I’m happy to speak with Chloe, of course, if she feels like she wants to. But for now, let’s focus on _you_.” She’s concerned about his plans going forward. “With everything that you’ve discussed and shared with Chloe since her confession, are you still intending to return to Hell once you’re well enough?”

“The Detective asked me not to leave, when she told me she… loved me.” He confesses, “But… Doctor I simply don’t know. Beatrice doesn’t wish me to leave, nor does Miss Lopez, and yet I can’t shake the feeling that the Detective would feel safer if I were no longer here. She would certainly be happier… I feel that simply by being here, I remind her of the guilt she feels for agreeing to carry out the priest’s plan.”

“And are you certain that’s not just your tendency to run away from difficult situations?” Linda probes carefully. “Do you not think Chloe would still feel that guilt whether you were here, or in Hell? At least if you were here, she wouldn’t be feeling guilty _knowing_ you were there. Chloe let me watch the videos you left for her, Lucifer, and- for what it’s worth- I’d like to add my desire to theirs that you stay. You don’t belong there. Your place is here, with people that care about you.”

“I won’t deny that this is certainly a difficult situation, Doctor. I’ve never been so dependent on other people in my very long life, and I can’t say that I’m a fan. In addition to that, I’ve got an old friend in town wanting to visit, and I’ve been putting her off as well as I may.”

“An old friend?”

“Yes, Eve is back… I haven’t seen her yet, but she’s been very persistent about seeing me, so the Detective offered to chauffer me out and about a little this weekend so I might meet with her.”

“Eve. As in… the original _Eve_?”

“The very one. I’ll admit to some anxiety as to what she wants to discuss… Not only do we have a history together, I _did_ just kill her eldest son a bit over a month ago, after all.”

“Oh,” Linda sighs. “Yes, that could certainly complicate things a bit.”

“Because this situation needed more complications, yes?” He complains.

A gentle reminder sounds from her phone, indicating that their time is quickly coming to an end. “Was there anything else you wanted to touch on today?” She prods gently.

“Doctor, I am exhausted.” He glances wistfully up the stairs. “I have no desire to dredge up any more _feelings_ at the moment.”

“All right. For next week, I’d like you to think about your decision to go back to Hell, and the reasons behind it. I’d also like you think about the reasons you might have to want to stay, okay?”

“Well, I should certainly have plenty of time to do so, Doctor. Thank you for making the trip to come and see me.”

“Of course,” she smiles, “I’ll come and see you again for our usual appointment next week as well, if you’re not more mobile by then.” She stands then, and he tries to do the same, but his knees refuse to hold him and he slowly folds back down onto the couch. “Should I let Chloe know that we’re done?”

“No, we’ll let her have her time to herself,” he yawns, curling his long form into the couch. “She certainly deserves the respite, and I’m merely going to be sleeping, anyway.”

“All right Lucifer. Take care, and try to _let_ yourself be cared for in the meantime, okay? You do have people that care for you.”

“Of course, Doctor,” he murmurs, and she can tell he’s already beyond hearing what she’s saying. She lets herself out the front door and heads back to her office, heart heavy with sadness for her most fascinating patient.

Chloe continues working upstairs, her music filling her mind and time passes unacknowledged. Trixie arrives home and is excited to find Lucifer downstairs, but he’s too deeply asleep to wake. She scatters her homework on the coffee table next to the couch so she can be nearby as she works, but he doesn’t stir. Chloe finally ventures downstairs as the light starts to wane, finding her daughter packing up her completed homework, and her devil still curled soundly asleep on the couch. She has just enough time to throw together a simple dinner and to eat with Trixie before Dan arrives to pick her up.

He taps on the door and walks in, as usual. Trixie greets him with a quiet hug, and goes to get her weekend pack without prompting. Dan crosses the apartment to confer with Chloe at the bar while they wait. He fills her in on his case’s resolution, the killer had been the partner of the victim.

“I hate to admit it, but Lucifer’s tip about finding Odessa at Dalton’s Place may have made the difference in solving that case.” Dan confesses begrudgingly. “Because of that, we were able to get the information about the jewelry auction in time to actually infiltrate it.”

“Oh, that’s great!” Chloe praises, “He’ll be glad to know that the tip came in handy.”

“How’s he doing, anyway?” Dan asks reluctantly. He’s still angry with the man for Pierce and Charlotte, but he _did_ take an axe to the chest when he jumped in front of Chloe.

“He’s still really weak, Dan.” Chloe informs him. “He made it downstairs today with some help from Amenadiel, but the effort wiped him out. He’s been asleep on the couch nearly all afternoon except for his hour-long session with Linda. I hope he has the energy to make it back upstairs, though he said earlier he’d rather crawl up the stairs than ask Amenadiel to come back and carry him.”

Dan glances over at the couch in surprise- he hadn’t realized Lucifer was there. He wanders to the couch and looks over the back at the pale form resting there. He’s so still and quiet that Dan fights the urge to poke him to make sure he’s alive. The heavy bags under his eyes and pain lines around his face are still deeply evident. Lucifer is normally annoyingly alive, constantly moving and making noise. Seeing him so still, even for Dan, is fundamentally wrong.

“Do you want me to help get him upstairs?” He offers dubiously, and Chloe regards him carefully.

“We can see if we can wake him, and if he’ll accept the help.” She decides, “He _really_ doesn’t like having to ask or depend on others for anything, and with your recent issues, I’m not sure he’d trust you not to let him tumble down the stairs.”

“Aw, Chlo’, I wouldn’t-“

“I’m just saying, Dan, that your behavior lately hasn’t really been conducive for him to trust you to help him. I was really surprised when he offered to let you cash in that favor with Al-Fassad.”

“Yeah, that kind of surprised me too.” Dan admits, “I was really glad we didn’t need it, though.”

Chloe crosses to the couch, and gently touches Lucifer’s face. She’s found it wakes him more peacefully than shaking his shoulder. “Hey. Lucifer? It’s getting dark, and Dan’s here to get Trixie. Will you let him help you get back upstairs, if you need it?”

His bleary eyes make a brief appearance from under his shadowed lids. “Dan’l?” he parrots through dry lips. She can see the indicators that his fever is returning, and knows she needs to get him up to bed.

“Come on Lucifer, your fever is coming back, we need to get you upstairs so we can get your cooling packs around you, okay?”

“’Kay,” he agrees meekly, moving feebly to sit up. Dan stands next to the couch awkwardly as Lucifer regards him blankly. Chloe helps him to his feet, and Dan slots himself under Lucifer’s left shoulder. Chloe instructs him to keep his hand low on his abdomen to avoid the healing axe wound, and the pair stagger up the stairs with occasional assistance from Chloe, like drunken contestants in a three-legged race. By the time they reach his room, Lucifer’s breathing is ragged and his skin is flushed, sweat starting to bead again on his brow and chest. Chloe has the cooling packs ready to put in place, and Lucifer is asleep again before they leave the room, head tossing weakly as the fever sets in.

“Jeez, Chloe, he should really still be in the hospital,” Dan asserts worriedly.

“The visiting nurse service will be here soon. They’ll hook his IV back up and make sure he’s set for the night. Thanks for helping me get him up here, Dan, he’ll be much more comfortable than on the couch.”

Just then Trixie pops into the room. She notices the cooling packs, and her face falls. She knows those mean the fever is back again. She crosses to the bed and rests her tiny hand on Lucifer’s sweaty cheek. “You’ll feel better soon, Lucifer. We’ll take care of you.”

“Urch’n”, he murmurs, turning his head in her direction. She pats his cheek gently, and Dan’s heart thaws just a little bit toward him.

“C’mon Trix, we’ve gotta get going.” His daughter peels herself away from her friend, gives her mother a hug, and they all retreat downstairs.

“Tell him thanks for the tip when he’s awake and aware, will you Chlo’?” Dan asks, glancing up the stairs anxiously.

“Yeah, I will Dan. Thanks again. Trixie-babe, be good for your Dad, okay?”

“Pft, I’m always good,” comes the tart reply, and Chloe can’t help but smile. “See you Monday, Mommy! Take _good_ care of Lucifer.”

“I’ll do my best, Monkey.”

****************************

The visiting nurse service comes and goes, replacing Lucifer's IV with a fresh line and another piggyback line of antibiotics. Chloe is just settling in beside him when she hears a now-familiar rustling noise downstairs. She knows that sound... it's wings. Amenadiel always texts if he's going to be flying in, so she knows it's not him. She grabs her phone and shoots him a quick text as she makes her way to the top of the stairwell. She descends halfway, to the landing, and stops to look down at the two angels standing in her family room. 

Her phone beeps with a text from Amenadiel, **_On my way._** Immediately followed by the rustling of a third pair of wings.

"Hello, Ms. Decker", says Raphael. "This is my brother Arael, and we think we have a solution for the patient's condition."


	12. Divinity Detox

“You’ve found a solution?” Amenadiel repeats hopefully. “How? Did you bring it with you?”

Chloe glances apprehensively back at Lucifer’s open door, and descends the stairs to take part in the conversation. “I’m sure Lucifer would love to take part in this conversation, but his fever is spiking, and he’s out right now.” She gestures the brothers into the sitting room, and the three angels settle onto her couch while she perches in her favorite reading chair. “What’s the solution?”

“Arael came to me with an idea,” Raphael addresses Amenadiel, with occasional glances at Chloe. Chloe takes her opportunity to observe this new brother of Lucifer’s. Arael looks… untamed. He’s built more like Amenadiel, stockier than Lucifer though nearly as tall. Where Lucifer has unruly curls, Arael has a _mane_ of them, deep coppery red and well past his shoulders. The curls frame his chiseled features and contrast wildly with his vivid blue-green eyes. His complexion is tanned, with a smattering of freckles, and Chloe bites her lip to keep from giggling. He looks the lovechild of Princess Merida and Charlie Weasley. Raphael continues earnestly, “We know that the poison is targeting the patient’s divinity, and it doesn’t seem to be weakening as time passes.”

“If it _is_ weakening, it’s doing so at an extremely slow pace.” Chloe chimes in, “He’s still weak as a kitten, and his fevers aren’t getting any better or less frequent – but at least he hasn’t had any more of those light show episodes for the last couple of days.”

“I understand from my brothers that your presence helps suppress the effects of the poison, by suppressing, or driving away his inherent divinity?” Arael addresses Chloe directly, earning him some points over Raphael in her book straightaway.

“So the Healer says,” she confirms dryly.

“The thought occurred to me that sometimes, when a garden plot is languishing, the best thing for it is to burn it to the ground, let it lie fallow, and start anew.” Arael’s eyes bore into Chloe’s, intense and sincere. “It may be, with your help, we can do the same for Lucifer.”

“Yes!” Raphael jumps in excitedly, “If we can apply enough of Ms. Decker’s divinity repelling effect directly to the patient, the toxin will have nothing to work on. By the time his divinity replenishes, the remainder of the poison should be filtered from his system entirely!”

Amenadiel looks confused, but Chloe can hardly believe what she’s hearing. “You’re saying… you want to do a divinity detox on Lucifer?” Her brows furrow as she tries to make sure she’s understanding correctly. “You want to… flush his divinity out entirely, then wait for it to come back on its own? Is that what happens when his eyes and wings light up? He leaks divinity?”

“Yes! Yes, exactly!” Raphael is so enthusiastic he’s nearly bouncing in place on the sofa. “This has never been attempted, it’s incredibly intriguing!” Arael glances at his brother with mild distaste written plain on his face, and Chloe feels her respect for him raise a little more.

“Oookay,” Chloe ventures. “How exactly are we going to, um, apply my divinity repelling effect to Lucifer? And how do we know that’s even going to be safe for him?”

“It will require your cooperation, Ms. Decker,” Arael replies. “The thought that we have is to try to transfuse some of your blood. And we thought we would try with a tiny sample of both first to see if the divinity reacts the way we hope it will.”

“And how will we know if it does?” Amenadiel queries.

“Two ways, one- it should be very obvious, as you put it, we will see a bit of a light show as the divinity escapes.” Raphael supplies, looking terribly proud of himself. “Two- I will be able to sense if there is any divinity left in the sample once the release is completed.”

“How much blood do you think you’ll need?” she probes curiously. She’s willing, she just wonders if they’re going to need to take it in stages.

“The trials should tell us more.” Raphael explains, “We _know_ just your being nearby is enough to suppress it, so clearly your effect is overwhelming. Hopefully the amount required will be negligible.”

“All right,” Chloe agrees. “What do we need for the trials, then? Some blood?”

“Yes, from the both of you. I took the liberty of appropriating some collection equipment from the hospital we removed the patient from.”

Chloe opts for plausible deniability and does _not_ ask how or when the appropriation occurred. “I’d like to be able to speak with Lucifer before you collect the samples, I feel like he should be able to give consent before you start experimenting on him. But his fever only just set in, so it’s probably going to be tomorrow before he’s lucid enough to understand-“

“Oh, I can handle a simple spike of a fever, Ms. Decker,” Raphael counters arrogantly. “I will go ease it now so we may begin the trials.”

Amenadiel nods, and Raphael nearly skips up the stairs in his enthusiasm to get started.

Chloe looks at Amenadiel with raised brows, silently asking for his input on this idea, knowing that Raphael can hear everything they say.

“It seems like a valid theory, Chloe. Provided the trials go well, I think it has a good chance at success.”

“How does this work? This… divinity reboot?” Chloe wonders, “I mean, how do you know it’s going to come back once it’s all driven out? What if he just… becomes human? He’s not likely to thank us for that…”

Amenadiel grins, and Arael smiles gently at her. “Our divinity is constantly being replenished, it’s part of our souls. Our wings act as conduits for it, which is why most of humanity cannot bear the sight of them.”

“Okay, but… Lucifer cut his wings off… he didn’t have them for a long time before they came back. How did he replenish without his wings?”

“He may have removed his physical wings, the corporeal extensions of them,” Amenadiel grimaces in disgust at the thought. “But the metaphysical aspects of them cannot be so easily removed. The conduit would have remained, even with the embodiment of the wings removed.”

Chloe nods, accepting the answer. “Why don’t the wings affect me?” She ponders. “I mean, they’re pretty… but, my brain isn’t mush. Does it have something to do with what you were talking about at the hospital? About my being _placed-?”_

“It’s possible that with your ability to resist Lucifer’s talents, comes a certain tolerance for divinity – perhaps as a result of your effect on his divinity specifically, though that wouldn’t explain why my wings don’t seem to affect you either,” Amenadiel muses. “There are so many things we simply don’t know, Chloe…”

“The patient is awake, and lucid,” Raphael announces smugly, descending the stairs. “If you would like to have your discussion with him Ms. Decker, so we can begin?”

Chloe stands, and Amenadiel offers to wait with his brothers out on the patio to give them a bit more privacy to discuss. Chloe thanks him for the thought but doesn’t make them go. She doubts that a few extra feet and a sliding glass door is going to make much of a difference in how much they hear.

“Ms. Decker,” Arael interjects, before she can walk away, “I am happy to come and address any questions or concerns you both may have. If you ask for me, I will come.”

“Thank you, Arael, I’ll let Lucifer know.” She smiles at this brother, and decides he might be her favorite of Lucifer’s siblings.

A moment later she raps lightly on Lucifer’s bedroom door before letting herself in. He’s managed to scoot himself up the headboard into a sitting position. His eyes are clear, but the flush hasn’t quite left his cheeks yet. He glances at her with a smile.

“You needed to speak with me, Detective?” he murmurs quietly. “It _must_ be important, for Raphael to deign to work on me.

“Did he tell you anything?” she asks, perplexed, and he barks a weak laugh. She settles onto the mattress next to him, taking his right hand and running her fingers over his healing wound out of habit.

“Raphael won’t speak to me unless he absolutely must – can’t let himself be tainted by my miasma of evil.” His tone is mocking, but Chloe can taste the bitterness on her tongue.

“Your brother Arael is downstairs,” she begins, and the sheer surprise on his face makes her smile. “They think they may have a solution for your problem here, but they need some samples from us to run some trials before we jump in.”

“Samples from _us?”_ he scoffs, “They’re dragging you into this nonsense as well now? What is the plan, exactly?”

“If I understand it correctly, _if_ the trials work the way they think they will, they want to give you a blood transfusion… from me.” Chloe admits, and his eyebrows lift even further. “They think the only way to get rid of this poison is to… to detox you by getting rid of the divinity that the poison is targeting, and letting you kind of… reboot.”

“So, they’re going to bloody turn me off and back on again?” He demands acerbically.

“Um, essentially? Yes.” She affirms timidly. “ _If_ I understand it correctly. Arael likened it to burning out a garden plot that’s failing and starting over from the ashes.”

“I suppose I can add ‘Phoenix’ to my list of titles, then?” He sighs.

“Would you like Arael to come and explain it, to make sure I’ve gotten it right?” Chloe suggests. “He volunteered to come and speak to us if we had questions.”

“Did he, now?” Lucifer’s face softens. “Arael always was an amenable fellow. Do _you_ have questions you’d like to address, Detective?”

“I think so, yes. Should we ask him to come up?” She rests her cheek against his shoulder, and he nods.

“Arael, brother?” Lucifer barely lifts his voice at all, “Would you mind coming to walk us through this plan of yours?”

“Of course, brother,” Arael’s mild voice appears a bare moment later, “I wouldn’t have volunteered otherwise.” His clear eyes are concerned as he takes in Lucifer’s ill appearance, but his smile is sincere. “It is good to see you again, Lucifer.”

“And you, Arael.” Lucifer grins and extends his hand, and Arael clasps it warmly. “I appreciate your help in this little problem of mine. I haven’t seen Raphael so excited since you showed him those mood-altering plants Father had you design.”

Arael’s laughter rumbles in his deep chest. “Yes, he did have an interesting reaction to them, didn’t he?”

They hear a haughty exhalation from downstairs and the two brothers’ eyes meet as they burst out laughing again. After a moment, Lucifer sinks back against the headboard, exhausted.

“All right, brother,” he sighs, “Tell me about this fresh Hell you’ve proposed.”

Arael details the idea behind the plan, what they intend to do to gauge the efficacy, and how they think it might affect him.

“And how much exsanguination are you planning on perpetrating on the Detective for this little experiment?” His tone isn’t quite accusing, but there is certainly a protective edge there that makes her heart beat a little harder in her chest.

“We’ll find that out with the trials. If it’s a significant amount, we can take smaller amounts over time, then administer it in a single dose, or as several smaller doses… depending on our findings.”

“Detective,” Lucifer says suddenly, “I’m not certain that _here_ would be the best place for this particular treatment to occur.”

“What do you mean?” she asks quizzically. “Why not here?”

“Well, if we’re purging me of my divinity…” He hesitates, “there’s going to be quite a lot of physical manifestation. Loads of light spillage, and a general overwhelming feeling of well-being, peace, love… in short, euphoria. You have a _lot_ of neighbors, and therefore the potential for a lot of fallout.”

“… _Oh.”_ She mouths silently. “You might be right, then… it really doesn’t seem right to, to fry the neighborhood’s brains when you, um…”

“Blow my load?” he suggests innocently, and she gently elbows him for the innuendo.

“Where do you suggest, then?” She flips her hand out dramatically, “I can’t imagine that Lux would be any better?”

“No, you’re right. I’ve got an estate that should be remote enough, and it’s still fairly nearby. And transport won’t be difficult –“

“I could take you, if you prefer?” Arael offers, but Lucifer shakes his head.

“The offer is appreciated, Arael, but I’ve already found that I have a dislike for being carried after a rather embarrassing series of trips with Amenadiel.” He wrinkles his nose at the memory. “Plus, the Detective would still need to be in close proximity to me in transit, so human transport would do just fine, I think. Would you mind giving us a moment, brother? I’d like to get the Detective’s opinion on your idea.”

He nods his head in a shallow bow and departs the room as Lucifer turns to her.

“Well?” he offers, “I am entirely in your hands, my dear. What are your thoughts?”

“I think…” she hesitates only a moment, “I think we should give them our samples tonight so they can start the trials.”

“All right then, Raphael,” Lucifer says, grinning and ticking his volume and superciliousness up a notch, “You heard the lady, come and get your samples, Healer.”

***************

After Raphael exuberantly collects his samples and Arael corrals him, they depart to start their trials with promises to return once results are known.

Amenadiel reassures Chloe that it won’t be long, since time in Heaven passes so much more quickly than time on Earth, then makes his own exit, leaving Chloe and Lucifer with only their own thoughts and each other.

“Did we just sign up to be divine guinea pigs?” She asks him, the corner of her lip quirking in a smile as she rests her chin on his shoulder.

“I don’t know about you, darling, but I certainly did.” He remarks wryly. “At least they only need a bit of blood from you, I get to be ground zero for the divinity battle royale.”

“Oh, Lucifer,” her face falls. “I am so sorry for all of this-“

“Now, Detective, we’ve been over this –“ he chides

“Yes,” she agrees, “we have. And it is _still_ my fault, even if I’m trying to make up for it now.”

He rests his head against the headboard and sighs. “Will we be able to move past this, Detective?” he asks resignedly, his voice breaking as he continues. “I’ve no wish to punish you for decisions you never followed through with, but if you’re determined to punish yourself…”

“I’m not punishing myself-“ she refutes hotly and he chuckles darkly.

“Aren’t you?” he drawls. “I’ve told you that I don’t blame you for this. I’ve offered to leave so you don’t have to be confronted with unwanted memories. I’ve defended your aborted actions to your offspring when she was upset with you, and still you persist on this path. I…” he falters, his voice wavering, “I don’t know what else I can do, Detective. Please, tell me what I can _do_.”

“I don’t understand why you feel like you need to do anything to make me feel better about what I tried to do to _you_!” Chloe cries in frustration.

“I…It-“ he stammers, “It’s merely that I hate to see a soul carrying unwarranted guilt. You are a good person that made a mistake, that is all. I want to… help you see that so that you don’t have to carry the burden of circumstances not entirely of your making.”

“Well, _I_ want _you_ to stay.” She blurts before her brain can filter her words, and the room nearly rings in the silence that follows her confession before she gathers the courage to continue, staring fixedly at his hand cupped in hers. “I don’t _have_ any unwanted memories of you, Lucifer, I want all of them, and I want you _here_ so we can make more of them together. In order to do that, we need to get you well, and then we can decide where to go from there. But if you’re asking what you can do… you can _stay_. Please.”

“Detect-“ his response is cut off by the strident ringing of his phone, and she hears him mutter, “Bloody hell…” as he fumbles for it. He holds it up for her to see. It’s Eve. He sighs, and with an apologetic expression, answers the call.

“Eve? Yes, hello darling, I’m surprised to hear from you this late, I thought you’d be out enjoying yourself at this time?” He grimaces a little at her ringing laughter. “No, unfortunately I’m still not able to come out. However…” he looks at Chloe, lifting an eyebrow in inquiry and she nods, realizing what he’s asking. “Why don’t we meet for lunch tomorrow? Say around 1 o’clock? Yes, there’s a charming little bistro with some fresh air seating, and we could have a lovely little catch-up. Mmhm. Yes, of course, I’d love to hear all about it. No… no, I’m afraid it would need to be _just_ lunch- I have to meet someone afterward. All right. I’ll text you the address, shall I? Have you figured out that feature yet? No? All right, I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Yes. Tomorrow, 1 o’clock. I’ll send you the address. See you then, darling.”

He sighs with relief as he disconnects the call. “She’s really figuring out modern technology quite well, you know.”

“Faster than you,” Chloe grins, “You fought getting a phone for the longest time before you finally jumped in.”

“I did, and now I remember why,” he grumbles, “They are diabolical inventions, perfect for interrupting all manner of things.”

“Mmhm.” Chloe teases. “You were about to say something?”

“Was I?” he mocks.

“Lucifer…”

“Oh, yes, you had asked me some frivolous thing…” his teasing tone continues, until she stretches up and gently presses her lips to his. He doesn’t make a move, but when she pulls away, he presses his lips to her forehead. “Detective, are you sure?”

“Please, stay.”

“Very well then,” he sighs heavily, resting his forehead against hers. “Until you send me away, I shall stay.”


	13. Not A ‘Might Have Been’

Chloe and Lucifer arrive at the bistro early so she can help him get seated. His fever had returned in the wee hours of the morning, but abated again by 10 AM, so Lucifer had been reluctant to call off his lunch date with Eve. Ella had agreed to meet Chloe for lunch as well, and they were planning on eating at the little diner next door. It also has patio dining, so Chloe can keep an eye on Lucifer without being terribly obvious about it.

Lucifer chooses a table with an umbrella, but sits in the sun with his eyes closed, leaning his head back and soaking it in blissfully. Chloe eyes him carefully. His complexion is still too pale, though the tracing of veins on his face is far less noticeable than other places. Fortunately, his suit covers those nicely, just showing the barest traces around his hands and his collar. The shadows under his eyes seem deeper in the harsh midday sunlight, but his grooming is impeccable. It seems odd to Chloe to see him back in his normal custom-fit three-piece suit with his hair perfectly sleek after over a week of seeing him in nothing but a hospital gown, with his hair barely brushed, let alone styled.

“Well?” He asks, face still upturned to the sun. “Do I pass muster, Detective? You’ve been staring for a bit now.”

“I… guess I have.” She admits. “It’s good to see you dressed and out in the sunshine. But…”

“But?” he prompts gently.

“I did get used to your curls,” she teases. “I love your style, but your curls are… endearing.”

“At least you didn’t say ‘cute’,” he smirks, and she snickers. _They’re that, too._ “What time is it, Detective?”

“We’ve got about half an hour before our dates are due to arrive,” she advises, after checking her phone.

“Dates, are they?” he comments archly, “I do hope your prospects with Miss Lopez are better than mine will be with Eve.”

“Ella and I will probably be talking over our recent revelations, as they pertain to you, and our respective…. Reactions.” Chloe admits quietly, and Lucifer opens his eyes to watch her.

“Ah, so we’ll both be going through the wringer, eh?” he offers her a small smile of commiseration. “I’m not yet sure how to handle Eve… our conversations thus far have made it very clear that she still sees me as the same person I was in the Garden, and… that is simply not the case. I’ve tried to be as plain as possible, but I’m fairly certain she’s not gotten the message. I don’t want to hurt her, but I think she’s after something that I simply can’t provide.”

“What is it you think she wants?” Chloe can guess.

“She says she’s come back for excitement, for fun,” Lucifer ponders slowly, “And yet she’s had plenty of opportunity for both since she’s been back, and she keeps circling back to me. Frequently.”

“You think she came back for you.” It’s not a question.

“I do, yes.” He exhales heavily, and lifts a slightly trembling hand to tuck a stray hair back in place. “But… she should know, I’m not a serious relationship kind of devil.”

“Aren’t you?” she murmurs softly, touching the back of his left hand lightly. He turns his hand to wrap his fingers around hers briefly.

“I was willing to try, once,” he confesses sadly, his eyes on their hands. “It… was a bit of a disaster for all involved.” His fingers squeeze briefly and he pulls away.

“Lucifer,” she’s unable to say more, her heart suddenly squeezing into her throat and making it impossible to force anything else past it.

“Ah, and there’s Miss Lopez! You ladies should go get a table,” he cuts her off cheerfully, waving to their friend. “I’ll be fine basking here until Eve arrives, Detective.”

Chloe hesitates, frustrated at being interrupted, and Ella weaves her way through the tables to greet them.

“Lucifer, looking good!” She praises happily, looping her arm around his neck and leaning over his shoulder for a hug. “I didn’t know you were coming for lunch, too! Chloe, I thought we were eating next door, I nearly missed you over here!”

“Oh, you are, Miss Lopez.” Lucifer interjects, leaning forward to free himself gently from Ella’s enthusiastic embrace. “I’m due to meet a friend, and unfortunately, the Detective and I are still stuck in close quarters until my brothers finish their experiments. You’ll be able to provide her with some much-needed Devil-Free time!”

“Oh! Okay, privacy with proximity, gotcha! Do you want us to hang out here for a bit, or make ourselves scarce before they get here?” Ella whispers conspiratorially, then sidetracks herself excitedly. “Did you say your brothers are experimenting? Did they find something to help with your poisoning?”

“Poisoning?” Comes a youthful voice from behind them, and Chloe notices Lucifer’s face go another shade paler before a convincing smile appears on his face as he turns. The woman approaching is dressed in a flowy, immaculately white gossamer sundress with strappy red stiletto heels. Her wavy hair shines sable in the sunlight, and tiny wisps of it twist and dance with errant breezes, giving her a look of innocence despite the plunging neckline of her dress. Her hair loosely frames a delicate, angular face with dark eyes widened with concern.

“Eve!” He exclaims genially, rising carefully from his chair. “It’s so good to see you!” He extends a hand to her and she takes it as an invitation for a hug, which he reciprocates with every bit as much awkwardness as he does with Ella. 

“Heya, Luce,” she smiles when he steps away, “Long time, no see.”

“Yes, well, what’s a few thousand years between old friends, hm?” He demurs. “These are my friends Chloe and Miss Lopez. Ladies, this is Eve. They stopped to chat, but they have their own plans to attend to-“

“Oh, it’s okay Luce, any friends of yours are friends of mine,” she says easily. “Do you ladies want to stay and have lunch with us? I haven’t had a chance to make many friends yet, I’m so new in town.”

“Uh…” Chloe flicks her gaze to Lucifer, whose eyes are wide with – what? Fear? Nervousness? ‘Please-don’t-leave-me-alone-with-her’?

“Maybe we can stay for a few minutes?” Ella suggests, looking to Chloe after trying to read Lucifer’s expression as well, and Chloe immediately sees the light of relief in his eyes. For whatever reason, he doesn’t want to be alone with Eve. Okay, then.

“Sure,” Chloe agrees lightly, as Lucifer relaxes nearly imperceptibly. “Here is as good as the other place we were planning on, isn’t it Ella?”

“Hey, yeah!” Ella jumps in enthusiastically, before adding to Eve, “Call me Ella, by the way. This place has _great_ cassoulet, and their croissants are so buttery…”

Eve sits on Lucifer’s right side, and Ella takes the remaining chair between Chloe and Eve, chattering away happily. They place their lunch order, Eve taking Ella’s recommendations to heart, and the conversation turns to deeper subjects.

“Luce-“ Eve rests her hand on his forearm, “I don’t mean to be rude, but you don’t look very good. And… Ella said something about poison as I was walking up? Are you okay?”

“I’m not quite okay,” Lucifer admits reluctantly. “This is why I’ve been indisposed since you’ve been here, my dear. There was a bit of a mishap with a radical priest who happened to have been gifted a celestial poison from one of my brothers a while back. Raphael and Arael are working on a solution as we speak, and I should be right as rain soon enough.”

“Lucifer, oh my God!” Eve exclaims loudly, as Lucifer hurries to shush her. “How bad is it?”

“Well, there’s an oxymoron,” he mutters, and Chloe giggles. “Truly, Eve, I’ll be quite all right. Right now it’s manageable, I’m merely easily tired, a bit weak, and intermittently on fire internally.” That last bit was said under his breath, and thankfully Eve doesn’t notice.

“If you’ve been sick, why haven’t you been home?” She asks worriedly, “Have you been in a hospital?”

“I was, for a few days, yes, until my brothers executed my escape.” He grins at them. “The Detective has been seeing to my care, as she has some unique nursing skills for my particular condition. She has been kind enough to offer her guest room for my recovery.”

Eve appraises Chloe carefully. Naïve she may be, but she can see that there’s something between Lucifer and his Detective – that’s the only thing he’s called her while they’ve been sitting here, aside from initially introducing her as Chloe. There’s a closeness between them that speaks of long familiarity, and strong awareness of one another. Eve feels a little tendril of worry crawl up her neck. She’s also noticed that they’ve been very carefully avoiding even casual touching, even though they’re sitting very close to each other. They don’t seem like lovers… Maybe…

“That’s very kind of you, Chloe,” Eve acknowledges earnestly. “You two must be very good friends.”

“We’re…” Lucifer hesitates, then settles on a satisfactory term. “Partners. We’ve worked closely together for several years now.”

Eve evaluates this new information. That makes some sense, but that’s not all she’s seeing here.

“My daughter considers Lucifer one of her best friends,” Chloe adds off-handedly.

“Your daughter?” Eve looks at Lucifer incredulously. The Lucifer she knows would barely allow a child in the same room with him. Just how much _has_ he changed?

“It’s true,” he shrugs, accepting it with a smirk. “Beatrice is a rare specimen, with extraordinary taste.”

“You _have_ to see his face when she hugs him, though,” Ella chimes in, giggling, “It’s fantastic.”

“Are you a hugger now, Luce?” Eve teases lightly, trying to hide her surprise.

“I am very much _not_ a hugger, but apparently there are some humans that cannot be deterred. The Detective’s Offspring and Miss Lopez are two such specimens.” Lucifer comments dryly. Eve watches as Chloe slightly raises an eyebrow at him, and the corner of his mouth quirks up just slightly in response to whatever silent conversation they’re having. The tendril of worry skittering along her neck changes direction and nestles itself in a heavy ball in her stomach. It swells and takes up even more space when she glances over at Ella. The fond expression written on the spritely woman’s face as she watches their exchange tells Eve in no uncertain terms that this is not an unusual occurrence, even in company.

Eve’s mindful gaze absorbs every detail of the couple’s interactions as the conversation flows. The words spoken as well as the ones _not_ spoken. Fleeting expressions, tiny winces or flinches with occasional words or inflections. Something has happened, probably recently, to put them at odds with one another. Through it all, though, there’s a constant attentiveness, nearly a gravity between them, pulling them together. She realizes then that this is no _maybe_ , and her heart sinks.

“I’ve been trying to think of what I’m going to do, now that I’m here,” Eve muses, “I haven’t decided if I want to stay in LA, or if I want to see where else might be a good fit. But I think I might want to find a job.”

“Really?” Lucifer queries, intrigued. “What do you think you might want to do?”

“I’m not sure yet,” she admits, having not even considered it until sitting here talking with these two accomplished women. “But I’m pretty good with people… and plants?”

“Oh!” Ella exclaims excitedly, “There’s this little flower shop down the street from me? The lady that owns it is _the_ sweetest thing ever, and I just noticed a hiring sign in the window this morning! You should totally go talk to her.”

Eve gathers some of the details from Ella, including the address of the shop, which Ella kindly programs into the maps app on her new phone after a quick internet search.

The waitress stops by with the check, which Lucifer waves away, merely pressing cash into the waitress’ hands with a murmured, “No change, thank you love.”

Ella gathers her bag, needing to get back to work. Lucifer’s energy is waning fast, and Chloe shares a glance with him before offering to walk Ella to the end of the block, then come back with the car. The two women stand, promising to let Eve know when their next tribe night gets scheduled. They head off slowly down the street, leaving the two (very) old friends at the table together.

“So,” Eve begins tentatively, “you and the Detective?”

“No,” Lucifer chuffs a laugh, “It’s nothing like that Eve. It might have been.”

“That’s not what I saw this afternoon, Lucifer,” she refutes gently. “That’s not a ‘might have been’.”

“I thought, perhaps…” he trails off. “But then something happened. I scared her, badly. When Cain- Eve. I killed Cain. Chloe was engaged to marry him, but she broke it off, and-“

“Lucifer, I already know what happened.” She reassures him. “Well, some of it, at least.”

“You- you _know?”_ Lucifer sputters, “How do you know??”

“Amenadiel came to talk to me, once he found out I was here. He was worried about you, worried I might have come to hurt you.” She laughs softly at the thought.

“Did you?” He asks quietly, his eyes unreadable. “Why _did_ you come, Eve?”

“I came for you,” she admits carefully, wide doe-eyes not leaving his face. “But I see now that I’ll need to adjust, because you’ve changed since I knew you. You’re different now, _more_ , somehow than you were before. And I think, maybe I need to be more as well.”

“Eve,” Lucifer grits his teeth against the surge of the pain as Chloe gains distance, knowing from the intensity of it that she’s at the car now, and will be returning shortly. He sags against the back of his chair. “You and I, it wouldn’t work. We can’t be… together like we were before.”

“No,” she agrees sadly, resting her hand on his pale cheek as a small smile flits across her face “Your heart seems to have been claimed already. But I hope we can be friends, Luce. You’re still the only person I really know down here.”

He lifts his hand to cover hers, folding his thumb around it and holding it in front of him. “I would like that very much, my friend.” He presses his other hand on top of it and a smile lights his eyes, though they’re dulled with fatigue. His gaze slides over her shoulder and the smile widens a bit. “And it appears my chariot has arrived.”

He carefully shifts his weight to stand, bracing himself against the armrest of the chair and the table as Eve scurries to support him if he needs it. She’s dismayed at how weakened he really is, and flutters around him nervously, as Chloe hurries over to help. Eve notices his sigh of relief as Chloe slings his right arm over her shoulder and presses against his side, the way he leans into her support as her left arm fits tightly around his waist. They move toward the car and Eve darts ahead to open the door for him, eager to be of help. Chloe braces herself against the car as she helps him fold himself into the seat, then leans in across him to fasten the seat belt when his hands tremble too much to do it himself. His head lolls toward them with an exhausted smile.

“It was lovely to see you, Eve,” his voice is thick with fatigue, but sincere. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to be a better host.”

“Pierre has been a delight,” Eve reassures him earnestly. “Please let me know how I can help, okay? Anything.”

He nods, but lacks the energy to lift his head again as Chloe gently closes the door.

“You’ll take care of him.” Eve meets her gaze steadily.

“I will,” Chloe answers solemnly.

“I don’t know what happened between you,” Eve says quietly, eyeing the now-snoring devil in the car beside them. “I can see that you’ve hurt each other, probably recently. But it’s crystal clear that you care for each other. He’s given you his heart. No one has had that privilege since he lived in the Silver City. Don’t screw it up.” Then the tiny woman hugs her, turns on her stiletto heel and glides gracefully down the sidewalk. Chloe gapes after her until the insistent buzzing of her phone pulls her back to the present. A text from Amenadiel

**_A and R have results. Where are you?_ **

**_-Took L to lunch with Eve. Can be home in 30. He’s exhausted, may need help getting him inside._ **

**_See you there._ **

She makes it home in 20.

****************************

There are three eager angels awaiting their arrival outside her apartment, and Chloe can only hope they were discreet about their wings on arrival.

She leaves Lucifer's dead weight to Amenadiel's capable strength, and moves to the apartment to unlock the door. Amenadiel strides past her with Lucifer's limp body gathered in his arms like a hamper of long-limbed laundry, and proceeds upstairs with him.

"You'll want to remove the jacket and waistcoat before you put him in bed, or we'll never hear the end of the wrinkles!" She calls upstairs after them, and hears Amenadiel snort in amusement.

Arael and Raphael followed Amenadiel inside, but stop in the sitting room.

"Is our brother fevered again, Ms. Decker?" Arael asks, concerned.

"I don't think so, at least, he's not flushed and sweating yet. It's just his first outing since everything happened, and he's exhausted." She glances anxiously upstairs. "He might have stretched himself a bit too much."

"Patience is not one of Lucifer's strengths," Arael agrees dryly.

"Amenadiel says you have some results to share?" Her query is hopeful.

"It took us a while to find the right ratio of your blood to introduce, and resulted in quite a lot of cleanup..."

"Cleanup?" Her brows furrow in confusion.

"The trials were... dramatic, to start." Raphael admits begrudgingly, and Arael snorts.

"What Raphael means to say is that he was a bit overeager and used larger samples than necessary at first, resulting in some large and messy explosions."

 _"Explosions??"_ Chloe squeaks.

"Only until we figured out the correct dose," Raphael sniffs.

Arael rolls his eyes in his brother's direction. "We found out that it actually takes very little of your blood to drive the divinity from a much larger sample of Lucifer's. Your effect on him is quite strong."

"And we still think this is the best chance to get rid of the poison?"

"We do," Arael says simply.

"And you're certain the dose you've calculated isn't going to cause another... explosion?" She asks hesitantly.

"Even the non-explosive dose is still very striking." Raphael notes superciliously. "The patient will essentially become a fountain of divinity, which will manifest as light."

"Is it going to be painful?"

"We don't know for certain," Arael answers before Raphael can. "But it is likely to be. Our divinity is part of us. Losing it hurts."

"Would it be better to do it while he's fevered, or unconscious like he is now?"

"As Raphael suspects he's already suffered some divinity bleeds while fevered and hasn't recalled them, that may in fact be the kindest thing."

"Then once he's awake, we should move to whichever estate he has in mind so we can be ready with his next round of fever." Amenadiel chimes in as he comes down the staircase. "Chloe was right, he's not fevered at the moment, only deeply fatigued."

"All right," Chloe rubs her hands together nervously. "We'll get his final okay once he's awake, but in the meantime, what do we need to prepare?"


	14. For the Greater Good

_Lucifer dreams of the Garden. He spends ages wandering the shaded sylvan paths, never coming across another sentient soul. The burning follows him even in his dream, only here it’s not internal. The forest ignites as he passes, leaving in his wake an inferno. Crimson tongues and whips of flame climbing the verdant growth and leaving nothing but clouds of choking ash behind, nothing appearing in the burnt wasteland but his footprints - evidence of his passage in the soft powder coating the ground._

_When he realizes what’s happening, he stops cold, surveying the devastation with dawning horror as he understands he is the cause._ He _brought this disaster, merely by walking through. He starts to walk back through the ashes, to avoid contaminating the rest of the woodlands ahead but he feels a furnace blast against his shoulders and turns back to stare in panic. The tranquil forest is no more, only a raging conflagration of flame, cloying smoke, and flying embers. He drops to his knees with a silent scream, helpless to stop it, unable to look away from this catastrophe he has wrought simply by existing here. He buries his face in his hands and weeps for a timeless eternity. The flames and heat fade away to whiteness, and now there are familiar voices behind him._

_“Look what you brought to my garden, brother. My life’s work is ruined.” Arael’s eyes are sad, accusing._

_“You are poison to everything you touch, Samael.” Raphael lectures._

_“You didn’t belong in Heaven, you certainly don’t belong on Earth. Where does that leave for you, little brother?” taunts Amenadiel._

_“You said you would go back to Hell if I asked,” Chloe shouts angrily, “Apparently trying to get rid of you with poison isn’t a strong enough request- I have to rid the world of your evil, for Trixie’s sake, you_ have to go. _“_

_Mazikeen stands off to the side, aloof. “If you’d taken me back when I asked, you wouldn’t be in this mess, you know.”_

_Beatrice, invisible nearby, places a kind, cooling touch to his cheek. “You’re family, Lucifer. You belong here with_ us. _We love you.” He struggles to focus on that one voice over the shouted castigations from the others, but then he’s falling. Tumbling, trailing broken wings that painfully catch the wind and billow unpredictably like a tangled parachute until bones grind and feather shafts splinter with the force of it._

_Impact, and burning, and agony, and despair. Echoing voices, melding and merging and judging and screaming. He is screaming._

_Lucifer!_

Lucifer!

“Lucifer!!”

His eyes snap open, wild and wide as he gulps great gasping lungfuls of cool, distinctly _not_ hellish air. A hand presses against his cheek – not the one from his dream, and a soothing chill sinks beneath his heate skin. He clings to the sheets beneath him and waits for the room to stop spinning.

“There you are,” Chloe murmurs quietly, gently stroking his hair back from his forehead. “Easy now, that seemed like quite the nightmare.”

“I have to go back, Detective,” Still caught in his dream, his voice grates against the dryness of his throat. “I need to leave when I am well, I am a poison here.”

“Like hell you are,” she scoffs. “You promised you would stay until I send you away.”

“Which is exactly why I’m telling you this,” he rasps, the flames from the aftermath of his fall still dancing across his dream-skin. “You will need to release me from that promise before I bring any more harm to you and yours, Detective.”

“Well, that’s not gonna happen,” she denies lightly, helping him sit up and supplying him with a glass of water to soothe his throat. “Do you want to talk about your nightmare?”

He takes a sip of water, grimacing at the burn against the dryness in his throat. The second swallow is easier, and the third empties the glass. Chloe takes it back, watching him carefully as his breathing slowly returns to normal.

“It was merely… a harsh truth that I needed to be reminded of, Detective, nothing more.” He prevaricates, but she doesn’t let him redirect.

“Tell me?” She settles on the bed next to him, bringing with her a soothing wave of coolness.

“It’s only a dream, Detective. My subconscious reminding me of something I already know.” He rests his head against the headboard, gazing at the evening light beaming in the windows- he’s lost another entire day.

“Which is?” she prods relentlessly. He can feel her gaze on his face, and steadfastly keeps his eyes focused on the window.

“The truth,” he admits brokenly. “I ruin _everything_ I touch, Detective, I am a much worse poison than that which is currently thrumming through these burning veins of mine. This one only affects _my_ life. I contaminate others’ lives, burning them to ashes if they have the misfortune to come to close to me. I can’t… I can’t do that anymore, not to you.”

“What is it that you think you’ve done to me, Lucifer?” Her voice is gentle.

“Oh, Detective,” he exhales deeply. “The ways I have hurt you are infinite and varied. My father placed you here, as far as we know, to cross paths with _me_ , so if you chose to, you could assign everything hurtful in your life as being caused by my mere existence.”

“Lucifer, that’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” He furrows his brow, his tone sharp. “All right, Let’s start with the ones I’m painfully aware of, just since we’ve met, shall we? Malcolm was resurrected by my brother, specifically to kill me to get me back to Hell. Because you were working with me, you got caught up in his insanity, the Urchin was kidnapped and you both likely would have been killed if… Well, you both would have been killed.”

“If… Lucifer, you told me that Malcolm _did_ kill you.” Chloe remembers suddenly, the conversation they’d had over his bleeding hand as the poison stealthily infiltrated his body.

“I- I did?” he finally turns his gaze to her, confused. “When did I tell you that?”

“The night of our, um, dinner, after you cut your hand and you told me about being vulnerable around me.”

“Ah. There’s still a great deal about that night that I can’t remember clearly,” he admits.

“Lucifer, Malcolm wasn’t your fault. You didn’t bring him back. _You_ didn’t decide to kill those people, or frame you for their deaths, or kidnap Trixie.”

“Perhaps not, Detective, but without my presence here, Malcolm would have never been resurrected to wreak havoc on your lives.” He flourishes his long fingers in front of them in a “ta-da!” motion, as though proving his point, and she chuckles as she rests her cheek on his shoulder.

“Saying it dramatically doesn’t make it any more true, Lucifer,” she teases. “The way I see it, you did what you could with a bad situation, and you got me and my daughter out of it alive… at the very real risk of your own life. What’s next on your so-called list of Lucifer-inflicted calamities in my life?”

“Shouldn’t we be at my estate with Raphael shooting me up with a nice hit of Detective blood by now?” he redirects desperately.

“Mmhm,” she nods against him. “Your brothers got tired of waiting for you to wake up, so I told them I’d text Amenadiel when you woke up so you could tell us which estate we’re relocating to. Arael and Raphael are gathering what they’ll need. Amenadiel told them he’d contact them when we were in position. So right now we’re just waiting for the transport.”

“How… strategic,” he retorts dryly.

“Mmhm,” her expression is smug. “So. Next on your list of calamities?”

“My brother nearly killed you, twice, because I refused to return my Mum to Hell. Then Mum tried to blow you up because I wouldn’t go with her to start a war on Heaven…”

“When was this?” She asks, surprised.

“Erm… your car accident? And the showdown with the Weaponizer? All my brother’s doing, he was.. very good at manipulating situations to get his desired outcome.”

“So why am I not dead, then?” A reasonable question, she thinks

“I… stopped him.” His voice is quiet, and he hurries on, “Then Mum planted a bomb in your car- which I didn’t know anything about- but Amenadiel talked her out of it, and I warned her off before she could try anything else.”

“So, your brother wanted to kill me because you wouldn’t send your Mom back to Hell, and your Mom wanted to kill me because you wouldn’t fight Heaven with her?” _Lucifer’s issues with being manipulated make total sense now- maybe being isolated from his family was the healthiest thing that could have happened to him?? Minus the Hell part, anyway…_

“Because you were close to me, Detective, you became a pawn in _their_ plans. Do you see, now?”

“Again, what _others_ do to manipulate you _is not your fault._ ” She affirms steadfastly. “Next.”

“I… reacted badly when I found out about my Father’s manipulation by placing you here. What I did… I did it to protect you, but I _know_ I hurt you. And that _was_ entirely my doing.”

“You mean Candy?” She smirks at the way his jaw drops in surprise. “Yeah, Linda told me a _very_ little about that. We’ll have a conversation about that sometime, but not right now. Next on the list?”

“You nearly got wiped off the face of the planet when you tried to arrest my Mum for barbecuing the heads off those people. Well, you and a good part of the West coast…”

“Your Mom… Wait, Charlotte Richards was really your Mom?”

He makes a strangled noise. “Complicated answer, Detective. Charlotte was killed and her soul sent to Hell, allowing my Mum to possess her body for a while. Since she’s a Goddess with no body of her own, her light started to burn through Charlotte’s body, which is what happened to that no-talent musician – he stabbed her, she bled light and well, you saw what happened. What would have happened if she had been shot… But I managed to open a… doorway… to a new universe for her, and convinced her to leave before anyone else could get hurt. Once Mum was gone, the real Charlotte’s soul was pulled back into her body, with her fresh memories of being in Hell as a lovely motivator to reform her life.”

Chloe’s brain fizzles out for a moment. “So, wait. Dan really did sleep with your _Mom_??”

“Oh my… _Detective!”_ Lucifer’s face is contorted in revulsion. “Can we please stay on track, here? _I am a danger to you.”_

“Okay, well… so far everything you’ve told me about has been you _protecting me_ from forces coming after me.” She deflects honestly. “You can’t be a danger to me if you’re actively working to protect me from danger, that’s not how it works.”

“Detective…Chloe,” His voice softens and he leans forward, pinching the bridge of his nose. “These dangers have all been a direct result of your friendship, your partnership _with me_. I can’t- Oh! Cain!” His head pops up. “Cain! Pierce! He came here to LA, _specifically_ to be near you, because of your effect on me!”

“He… what?” She’s distracted by his use of her name, and trying to follow Lucifer’s mental leaps and failing miserably. “How would he know about my effect on you?”

“He was the Sinnerman, remember, he had quite the intelligence network, and on top of that, he kept very careful files about any Celestials and non-humans living on Earth. He figured it out, dropped what he was doing and infiltrated the LAPD.” His eyes are wide, hope and fear and desperation all whirling in those dark depths. “All because of my presence, Detective, you _must_ see what I’m saying now??”

“Wait…” Chloe is remembering something. “You got kidnapped right about the time Pierce appeared.”

“Yes?” He confirms, confused. “You didn’t notice I’d been gone, and just thought I’d been avoiding the pillock. Turns out I was wrong about him being the one to return my wings and steal my face, but he _was_ the one that arranged my devil-napping.”

“That’s when you got your wings back.” Chloe muses, sifting through her memories of that case. “You tried to show me something that day, you were really anxious about it… and I got pissed because I thought you were messing with me… but you weren’t, were you? You… you tried to show me your face then, didn’t you?”

“I… I did, yes.” His eyes drop to his lap and remain there. “At the time I thought my Father was just messing with me to be a dick, but I realized later it was something else entirely. But my face was gone, it wouldn’t be called. Which honestly, given your… response when you _did_ see it… it’s probably for the best.”

“Why didn’t you show me your wings, then, if you wanted to prove it so badly? You said they were back!” She shouts, frustrated.

“I’d only just cut them off again that bloody morning before coming into the precinct!” he defends vehemently. “And besides that, I didn’t feel like they were… an accurate representation of who- what- I am. I didn’t want anyone to see them. They weren’t me.”

“So, okay, but even though Marcus, _Cain_ , came to LA for me, he still went after you first.”

“Yes, he needed me out of the way to move in on you.”

“And you tried to warn me about him.”

“Yes, Detective, I did try,” his voice is resigned, his eyes closed. “For all the bloody good it did me.”

A knock sounds on the front door, and they both jump, glancing at each other. “That must be the transport.” Chloe jumps from the bed and rushes down the stairs to let them in, bustling their travel bags out to the van as the EMTs prepare Lucifer for travel.

*******************

They arrive at Lucifer’s Hills estate and Chloe tries not gape too obviously. Chloe grew up around actors, she’s seen mansions before, but _wow_. There’s no gate- _Of course there’s no gate… Lucifer seems to have something against doors in general, why would he have a gate?_ \- but the giant pillars on either side of the drive are no less imposing without one. The drive is winding, with a spectacular view of the mountains on one side, and the LA lights sprawling on the other. There’s a small reflecting pool in the center of the roundabout in front of the house entrance where the van pulls up, and Chloe can feel her eyes getting wider. She pulls her face away from the van window, and glances toward Lucifer, who is smirking at her from his secured gurney.

“See something you like, Detective?” He purrs teasingly.

“I didn’t notice this one in Dan’s portfolio when we thought you’d taken the false Sinnerman…”

“Not surprising, I only acquired this one in the last year or two,” he replies, a little too casually. “I rather thought Beatrice might like it when it was offered up.”

“You got this as part of a deal?” Chloe asks cautiously.

“Not a deal, no. This was a wager,” he declares smugly. “Word to the wise, darling, never bet against the devil, I never accept a wager unless it’s a sure thing.”

“Lucifer, this house has _turrets_.”

“I know,” his smirk spreads into a grin, “Ostentatious, isn’t it? But surprisingly comfortable inside. And isolated enough that a… celestial light show shouldn’t be unduly noticed.”

And just like that Chloe goes from sightseer to worried partner, remembering why they’re here.

They get Lucifer settled into the enormous bed with little fuss, and restart his IV pump. Once the EMTs leave, Lucifer yawns widely and relaxes into his pillows. Despite sleeping the entire afternoon and part of the evening away, he is still exhausted, and he hates it.

“All right, Detective, what’s next in the grand plan?” 

“Arael and Raphael agreed that this… probably isn’t going to feel very good.”

“Yes, I’d imagine that having my divinity evicted with all the gentility of an overzealous bouncer is going to feel rather like crawling through the flaming sulfur flats of Hell.” Lucifer chimes in wryly.

“So, we thought it might be easier on you if we wait until your fever spikes again, and you’re already out cold.”

“Hm,” Lucifer ponders the point. “I can see the sense in that. If I’m thrashing around with fever, though, will they be able to inject the amount of blood they need to? I’m hardly going to be holding still.”

Chloe gestures to the IV hookup. “Raphael says they have a secondary line to attach to your IV port, and they can inject it that way. The good news is, it sounds like it should be a pretty small amount that they need to inject, which will hopefully reduce any potential for some kind of… rejection.”

“We’re only waiting for my fever to spike up again, then?” Lucifer clarifies, and Chloe nods. “Brilliant. Well, at least those have been cropping up fairly frequently. I assume you’re to text Amenadiel when things start heating up?”

“Yep,” Chloe chirps, settling onto the mattress next to his prone form, tucking herself under his shoulder. "Is this still something you want to do?"

"Yes," he murmurs quietly into her hair. "The sooner this is resolved, the better for all involved."

***************************

Chloe wakes in a sweaty, long-limbed tangle with her trembling partner, and curses to herself. She's missed the onset and he's well into the fever now. She fumbles for her phone and texts Amenadiel, hoping he's not asleep. She has just enough time to sit up and sweep Lucifer's sweat-soaked hair from his brow before three sets of wings are rustling around the bedroom.

"I was worried you'd be asleep. I just woke and found him like this," Chloe explains nervously.

“This is perfect," Raphael exults, "exactly what we were waiting for!"

"You know, for a healer, your bedside manner really sucks," Chloe snaps. "Where is your compassion? This is your brother, and you're about to run a painful experiment on him with less concern than if he were a lab rat."

"The patient ceased being my brother when he rebelled against my Father," Raphael lectures primly. "But this procedure could help us in the future, so I will set aside my less gracious feelings toward the patient for the greater good."

"Yeah, great. Thanks, Grindelwald, I'll be willing to settle for a little less glee with what we're about to do here." Chloe mutters as she holds out her arm for her blood collection.

Even with Arael's assurance that they only needed a small amount of blood, Chloe is surprised at the size of the syringe, and how quickly it's filled. "Is that it?"

That's all we need, Ms. Decker," Arael reassures her quietly.

"You needn't remain for the next stage, it will likely be difficult for someone who cares about him to witness." Raphael cuts in.

"Then it sounds to me as though someone that cares about him _should be_ _here_ to witness," she retorts sharply.

Raphael fills the extension set line with saline, and attaches it to the IV line with the syringe of Chloe's blood attached to the other end.

"Everyone ready?"

Arael and Amenadiel each take a position on either side of their restless brother, ready to hold him down if necessary. Chloe bites her lip and steels her resolve to remain in the room. She owes it to Lucifer to stay, to experience the consequences her actions have brought upon him. She braces herself as Raphael slowly depresses the plunger, and watches the surge of vermilion as her blood travels the extension line before disappearing into the IV cannula embedded in Lucifer's vein.

Nothing changes as the plunger progresses to its fully depressed state, and Raphael switches the syringe for another of saline to flush the last remnants of the blood into Lucifer's system. Lucifer continues to make his small trembling movements until suddenly he's not moving at all. The four conscious people in the room hold their collective breaths, and Lucifer starts to whimper.

The darkened framework of veins visible under his flushed skin starts to brighten, first to a burning red then lighter and lighter until they shine an incandescent white through the translucent veil of his skin. All the while Lucifer's whimpering builds into a keening, almost musical cadence and while it's not a language Chloe understands, the three angels clearly do. Amenadiel's face goes several shades paler while Arael's crumples in grief. Raphael's merely sets like stone, expressionless. The keening escalates in volume and intensity as Lucifer clearly begs for something, the vein outlines continuing to brighten. Tears fall freely from Chloe's eyes, and she notices Arael's eyes are wet, as well as Amenadiel's cheeks. Both of them dart their eyes toward her before focusing back on their suffering brother. The shimmering tracery starts to contract, pulling away from Lucifer's fingers and toes, the radiant light coalescing as it seems to fold in on itself toward his center mass.

Lucifer begins to thrash now, and Arael and Amenadiel struggle to hold him down, keeping him from damaging himself in the throes of fever and pain be finds himself tossed upon. Sobs wrack Chloe's frame as Lucifer screams in agony, his voice cracking with the force of his cries, but she refuses to look away. She can hardly see him now, only a writhing mass of shrieking, swirling light glowing so brilliantly she can see it through her eyelids when she blinks.

Finally, when she thinks the light can't possibly become any brighter, Lucifer's vividly white wings burst forth, his eyelids fly open, and a fountain of luminescence pours from them in torrents, gushing from his eyes, nose, mouth, and feathers in rushing rivulets. The cadence of Lucifer's excruciating cries doesn't change, but the intensity ratchets up another notch as the veritable waterspout of divinity swirls throughout the room and coalesces around Chloe. She can feel the heat of it surrounding her as the last of it bleeds from Lucifer's feathers, disintegrating them into scattered motes of light and leaving his once-glorious wings bare and skeletal.

The light surrounding her obscures her view of the room but she sees Lucifer slump back to the mattress, utterly still and pale and her heart leaps in panic. The wall of light seals itself around her and collapses into her, driving her to the floor. It pours into her until her skin feels as though it's bursting, then suddenly winks out, leaving only stunned silence and dazzling afterimages dancing in the suddenly darkened room.


	15. He's in Good Hands

Lucifer collapses bonelessly against the mattress, unmoving, eyes blankly staring at the ceiling. Amenadiel and Arael cautiously release their grip on his clammy skin, and Raphael roughly jostles Arael out of the way in his haste to examine his currently mundane patient.

Amenadiel remains kneeling on the bed next to Lucifer’s still form, staring wide-eyed at his denuded wings, still spread wide behind him. As he watches they fold away, and he shudders at the reminder of losing his own wings, and wonders what they’ve just done to their brother.

Arael turns to Chloe. Her unconscious frame had collapsed to the floor after the onslaught of divinity had mysteriously targeted her, and he checks her carefully. Her breathing is even, her expression peaceful. Her skin glows a bit with subtle illumination from within – probably not surprising as it appears she’s just absorbed an archangel’s worth of poison-tainted grace. He touches her shoulder gently and she doesn’t wake, so he carefully lifts her in his arms and carries her to the bed.

“Amenadiel, you can move now,” he mutters softly. “I believe it’s safe to say Lucifer won’t be going anywhere soon, and I’d like to make Chloe comfortable.”

“Of course,” The burly angel blinks himself back to the present and shuffles off the bed, making room for Arael to arrange Chloe close beside Lucifer. Her skin is cool to the touch, and Arael is pulling the blankets up over her when his attention is drawn to Raphael.

“Fascinating,” the healer is mumbling to himself, as he pinches Lucifer’s skin, then rubs his fingerpads together. “Entirely new!”

“What have you found, Raphael?” Arael’s eyes flicker to Lucifer’s countenance, noticing that the lines of inflammation have disappeared, and the skin stretched tightly over his bones is no longer flushed with fever. “Is he all right?”

“No, of course not,” Raphael scoffs, “We’ve just forcibly driven every lingering hint of divinity, of his very essence from his body, the patient is nowhere _near_ all right.”

“Fine, then,” Arael snorts in annoyance at Raphael’s superior tone. _“Will our brother recover, you insufferable ass?”_

“It’s too soon to tell. _The patient_ is incredibly weak, which _I_ predicted.”

“Yes, Raphael, you did warn us of that possibility.” Amenadiel interjects, trying to keep the peace. “What is so fascinating?”

“I had thought that we would still be fighting the poison after the divinity was expelled, but that is not the case!” Raphael carries on excitedly. “This substance was bound so tightly to the patient’s divinity, that it clung even as the divinity was discharged!”

“Brother, that divinity made its way to Chloe!” Amenadiel shouts, “Are you saying that we might have saved Lucifer, only to poison her??”

“Hmm.” Raphael spares a glance for the human now tucked into the bed next to his patient. “No, she appears healthy – I’ll get to her in a minute.- But look at _this_!” He pinches Lucifer’s skin again, and holds his fingers out to his brothers, rubbing his thumb across the tips of his fingers, where a fine, ashy patina rests. “ _This_ is what remains of the poison! Once the grace was no longer bound by a corporeal form, it all shook loose.”

“Uh, Raphael, should you be handling that? If it targets divinity?” Arael suggests, annoyed.

“Oh.” The healer realizes belatedly, abruptly pulled from excited tunnel vision. “You raise a valid point, brother. We should all wash our hands. And the patient. And probably the bedding, as well.”

“What about Chloe?” Amenadiel cajoles anxiously.

“One patient at a time, brother!” Raphael sniffs. “ _This_ patient is the one that holds the most relevance for us, so I’ll finish my exam here first.”

“Wow, putting Lucifer before Father’s miracle,” Arael smirks. “I would almost be proud of you, brother, if I didn’t know it was entirely self-serving. Go on, then, what are your findings?”

“No traces of poison or divinity left in him… rapid, thready heartbeat, hypovolemic, clammy skin.” The healer reaches over to the pump and increases the rate of the drip. “Not unexpected, he’s going into shock. We’ll need to keep him warm. But, if he doesn’t die tonight, then he’ll probably recover within the week, depending on how long it takes his divinity to replenish.”

“Great,” Arael barks sarcastically. “The great healer’s advice is to keep him warm, wash him off, and try not to let him die. Helpful. Anything else?”

“I suppose I can check the human before I go,” Raphael shrugs, his interest spent. He rounds the foot of the bed to Chloe’s side and bends to examine her. “She _is_ the miracle, after all, and she did help with this experiment.”

“How very thoughtful of you,” Arael intones dryly. The snark sails entirely over the healer’s head and he nods his head graciously.

“Oh,” Raphael murmurs, “Now that’s interesting.”

“Care to share, brother?” Arael prompts acerbically when Raphael says nothing more.

“I was otherwise occupied with the patient when the Miracle was overwhelmed by the manifestation of the divinity release. I thought she had merely been overcome, that it had perhaps simply washed over her as it dissipated and her simple human constitution was overwhelmed.” Raphael looks up from his examination. “That is not what has happened here. The grace appears to have taken residence within her. It’s anchored tightly, and while I can’t see any physical changes in her currently, it also doesn’t show any signs of dissipating. She does _not_ appear to be in danger of going into shock, though her body temperature seems to be a bit higher than normal for a human at the moment. I suppose… I suppose I could come and check on them both tomorrow. For research purposes, of course.”

“Of course,” Arael intones.

“That would be very helpful, Raphael, thank you. I will watch over them tonight, and keep Lucifer warm.” Amenadiel says gratefully.

“I believe I saw one of the hot-water receptacles out by the false pond, brother, perhaps Lucifer would benefit from some time inside it?” Arael suggests.

“Keep the arm with the IV line out of the water. And dry him off quickly when you take him out, or it will negate any warming value it imparts.” Raphael dictates, and the brothers nod.

“Arael, let’s take him to the hot tub, then you stay with him there and I will move Chloe and change the bedsheets. If we turn on the jets, they should rinse off the poison residue, just make sure you keep his head above water. Without his divinity, he’s probably able to drown.” Amenadiel leaves Arael to wheel the IV pump along as Amenadiel carries Lucifer to the hot tub, gently lowering him onto one of the lower benches and making sure both arms are hooked outside the tub to help keep him from sinking too deeply. The water comes up to his chest, and his head lolls forward until Arael tips it back. Amenadiel turns on the jets, then steps back into the house before returning with a small stack of towels.

“Make sure you wipe down his shoulders, arms, and face, we can’t risk him being contaminated by the poison again.” He turns back to the bedroom. “I’ll be back to help move him back once I’m done inside.”

*************************

Chloe doesn’t so much lose consciousness as become encased in the light. She finds herself dimly aware of the room beyond the light surrounding her, but it’s a bit like being inside a waterfall cave: the outside world filters in, but it’s nebulous, not quite real.

The light is very real. It’s everywhere, around her, _inside her._ Warm, alive. It feels like she can see it rise and fall, as though breathing. Like she can feel its steady heartbeat thrumming alongside her own. It’s intimately familiar, and yet utterly alien. It reminds her of…

Lucifer.

Her brain offers her an image from just before the light encompassed her, of Lucifer dropping back onto the bed, motionless.

Right. Divinity detox. Poison. Betrayal. _Her_ betrayal. _Is he okay?_ She needs to find out.

 _How do I get out of here?_ She wonders, looking around at the seamless white wall. It’s like being inside an egg. If the egg were slightly glowy on the inside, that is. She glances around, hoping to find an exit sign. She finds absolutely nothing of the sort, not even an actual wall. She has a surface to walk on, but if there _are_ walls or a ceiling, they’re apparently out of her reach. She sits down and nibbles her thumbnail in frustration, thinking.

“Hello?” she finally calls, feeling like every character in every story that’s ever found themselves somewhere and completely alone. “Is anyone there?”

“Ah, _here_ you are!”

She blinks, and suddenly there’s a familiar-looking black man sitting next to her in a pale ivory sweater and slacks, a comfortable speaking distance away. She squints at him, trying to decide where she’s seen him before. His hair is close-cropped and he has a silvering beard, but…

“Aren’t you…” she deliberates, “the All-State guy?”

“Am I?” he looks down at himself, delighted. “The one that causes all the problems?”

“No, not that one. The other one, with the voice.”

He holds out his hands as though he hasn’t seen them before. “Hm. I suppose I could be.” He shrugs. “My form isn’t truly important, of course, but it’s interesting to see how you manifest Me.”

“And that means… what?” she shakes her head, confused. “Look, I seem to be stuck here, and I really need to get out and go check on my partner. He’s been sick, and-“

“Yes,” he agrees solemnly. “My son has had a very rough time of it indeed.”

“Your son.” Chloe parrots, nonplussed.

“Yes, I believe you know him quite well. He has many names, but I think you’re most familiar with him as Lucifer?”

“You’re Lucifer’s father. You’re God?” She scoots further away before stopping herself. Really, how futile would it be to try run away from God when there’s literally nowhere to go?

“I thought it might be easiest to approach you this way, Chloe,” he says gently, holding up a hand, palm out in a placating gesture. “My Presence can be overwhelming for humans, so I took advantage of this particular situation. I thought it was past time for we two to have a little chat.”

“Look, I really just want to get back and check on Lucifer-“

“You don’t need to worry about him at the moment,” God’s eyes light up and he gives her a beaming smile. “He’s in good hands.”

“Oh, my…” she stops herself. “You did _not_ just say that.” If she’d had any doubts before, she doesn’t now. This is _definitely_ Lucifer’s father. Puns.

“I’m afraid I couldn’t resist,” he smirks. “Truly though, his brothers are caring for him as we speak. _And_ you.”

“Which brothers?” Chloe asks cautiously, and God frowns a little.

“Raphael has already gone, but Arael and Amenadiel remain.” Chloe relaxes a little at his answer, and God chuckles a little sadly. “Yes, I know Raphael has many sharp edges. His healing talents are phenomenal, but he… perhaps puts a little too much stock into what he thinks _I_ want.”

“You know, you might be able to avoid that at times by actually _telling_ someone what it is you _do_ want.” Chloe suggests acidly.

“Yes, it would be easy to think that, I know,” he commiserates. “Unfortunately, when One is God, _telling_ others what I want, even if I only frame it as a wish or a whim, becomes a command. Especially when it involves my children. Well, most of my children, anyway.”

“Not Lucifer, then, I take it.”

 _“Never_ Lucifer,” God agrees, “though he followed My commands voluntarily in the beginning, when I needed him to. He always had a spark of My Will, which is why he fought so valiantly for the others to have it as well.”

“And you cast him out for that.”

“I did cast him out, but not for that.” Soft brown eyes hold her own. “That is what I let him believe, but it is not the true reason why.”

“Why did you, then?” Chloe turns to him accusingly “Because, frankly, as a parent, I can’t imagine _ever_ doing to my daughter what you’ve done to your son.”

“When I designed Lucifer, I had four specific criteria I needed to instill.” God’s voice is clinical, and she sees a little of the same “mad scientist” vibe that she’d picked up from Raphael. “I needed him to love Me, to have the Will to create, to have the Gift of desires, and to rule over Hell. When it came time for him to begin his duties in Hell, he had no desire to leave My side. He loved me too well to willingly be isolated there away from My Presence.”

“You banished him to Hell… because he loved you and wouldn’t leave on his own?” Chloe throws up her hands, appalled.

“As it happens, his Gift and his Will combined in an unpredicted way, molding him into the advocate for free will. I didn’t have the heart to banish him when he only wanted to remain by My side,” God admits, “But when he staged his rebellion for the free will of the rest of the Host, I could not let the opportunity pass.”

“You gave him the rope and waited for him to hang himself with it.” She leans back, disgusted.

“I can see how it would appear that way, Chloe.” He rubs his left forearm with his right palm, rolling the fabric between his fingers. “Lucifer had duties in Hell that _needed_ to be attended. He was the only one that could do them. The Rebellion was the perfect reason to send him away without seeming to punish him for his love of Me. I needed to make certain that he stayed there until his duties were complete, so I assigned Amenadiel to watch over him and enforce as needed. His banishment was never meant to be permanent.”

“Did Lucifer know what he was supposed to be doing? Did you give him any training? Tell Amenadiel what tasks needed to be completed before Lucifer could go back?”

“His abilities to rule Hell were part of his design, once there, he would know what needed to happen.”

“So, that’s a ‘no’.” Chloe slides her hand down her face, frustration soaring. “And you haven’t spoken to him once since you tossed him out without even telling him why.”

“I have not. I know he is angry with me, rightfully so. I’ve only communicated with him indirectly, and once through a deal that he proposed.” He switches his focus from the fabric of his sweater to the fabric of his trousers, avoiding her piercing glare. “Your concern for him speaks well of you, Chloe, especially after your recent turmoil.”

Instantly she feels like a hypocrite of the worst order. Who is she to lecture God on how much damage he’s done to his son? Look what _she’s_ managed to wreak upon him in the few short years she’s known him.

“My time with you is limited, and I had rather thought you might want to discuss a few things more personal to you.”

“You mean about my being placed here? Or about what _I’ve_ put your son through? What all of it means?” It’s her turn to look away. She focuses on her socks, the left one has a tiny hole beginning at the pinky toe and she worries it with her fingers.

“Well, yes. I’m sure you have questions.” God and his Miracle sit quietly together for a long moment while Chloe tries to sort out her thoughts.

“How much of my life is my own?” She finally breaks the silence with the question that’s been boiling inside her since she found out about her existence. “Is there anything that’s _just_ me, or has all of it been about _him_? Did you intend me as a weapon against him? Or to love him, or-“

“Chloe, it’s _all_ been you, it always has been.” He assures her gently. “All I gave you, aside from an existence, was a bit of resistance to divinity in general, and to his specific gift of desire so you could see him as he _is_ , as I see him. To love him or not, to act against him or for him, that has always been entirely up to you. Of course, I had _hoped_ that you would choose to side with him, but I have not swayed you in any direction other than placing you here, where he would be.”

“Well… a little _warning_ would have been nice.” She pulls her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them, rocking slightly.

“Would you have believed it, if I’d sent one?”

“Probably not,” she chuffs a watery laugh, and sniffles. “What is… this place? What happened with… everything?”

“Oh, I’m glad you asked that!” He grins, and it lights his eyes. “There were a few ways this experiment of Raphael’s could have gone, but this path was by far the best, in my opinion. As Raphael thought, your presence had a bit of a repelling effect on Lucifer’s divinity, suppressing it when you were near. That’s not _My_ doing, by the way, dear, that’s all on Lucifer, though I’m sure he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. By forcing it from Lucifer, it was freed from his angelic actualization and the… let’s call it the ‘magnetic charge’… was reversed, and it was drawn into to you. That’s why I’m able to be here, in this way.”

“Okay…” she thinks for a moment. “But what does that mean? Is it just gonna… stay here? With me?”

“It seems to like you,” he says teasingly. “And it does open up some doors for you.”

“I don’t know what that means. I’ve got divinity now? Am I gonna sprout wings??”

“Well… probably not.” He looks into the blank distance for a moment. “You are _not_ an angel, after all. But I suppose, at need, you _could-_ you will have a small potential for some actualization merely by having this divinity taking residence. If you’re wounded, you will heal faster. You’ll be able to slow, or even stop your physical aging if you choose. You could choose immortality, if the desire strikes you.”

“Why on Earth would I choose that? Being alone forever, all my loved ones passing on and leaving me behind…” She thinks of Cain, wandering the planet alone for thousands and thousands of years, watching everyone around him die, again and again.

“It has recently come to my attention that you love my son.”

“I… I do love him.”

“And he has made it very clear that he considers _Earth_ to be his home.” God prompts carefully.

“He’s actually been pretty adamant that he thinks he belongs back in Hell, as soon as he’s well,” Chloe admits, ashamed. “He thinks he’s poison to everything he touches, and is afraid he’s doing damage merely by being here.”

“And yet, you have extracted a promise from him to stay until you release him,” he admonishes mildly. “So it seems you have some time to convince him otherwise. _If_ you choose each other, Chloe, neither of you need be alone again.”

“You’re saying he doesn’t have to go back to Hell? He can stay here if he wants to?”

“Hell doesn’t _need_ a ruler now, it runs perfectly well on its own. It always has, since Lucifer fulfilled his initial duties there.”

“And you never bothered to tell him because…?”

“Because he hadn’t found his home yet. He was never truly happy in the Silver City, not since he finished his project with the stars. But now he’s found you, he’s _claimed_ his home. I’d like to see him have a chance to keep it. I would… like to see him happy. I would like to see him _choose_ happiness for himself”

That’s a sentiment that she can agree with. “Would it have been so bad to grant free will to the rest of them?” she wonders quietly.

“Oh, my dear child,” he smiles softly at her, “They already have it. They merely have to take it for themselves.”

She opens her mouth to respond, and she’s suddenly alone, sitting in the vast expanse of empty whiteness.


	16. That Was Totally His Idea

Lucifer wakes feeling wrung out and empty, rather like a tube of toothpaste that should have been thrown away a week ago. His head pounds, his mouth is dry, he aches all over, and the exhaustion is bone-deep but… he doesn’t _burn_. That needling, stinging feeling that had been consistently present since he woke in the hospital is also gone, and what a sweet relief it is.

He doesn’t open his eyes, but tries to move and finds himself burrito’d tightly within what appears to be a truly impressive number of blankets. There’s a long line of delicious warmth pressed against his left side, and he realizes he’s shivering. He listens, but he feels as though his ears have been packed with cotton. He can only hear the soft snoring next to him, but at least he recognizes it: The Detective is clearly still keeping close-by.

He braces himself against the throbbing in his head and cracks his eyes open. Fortunately, the light in the room is dim, and when the pounding doesn’t worsen he opens them the rest of the way. He turns his head cautiously to his left and can barely make out the Detective snuggled into his left side.

 _So, sight and hearing diminished, burning gone… does that mean the treatment was successful?_ The last thing he remembers is falling asleep, resting against Chloe’s cooling presence. Now it appears they’ve reversed those roles- he’s freezing and _she_ is the warm one.

He tries sitting up and finds to his dismay that he’s still as weak as one of Amenadiel’s Cran-tinis. Ugh, his mouth is so dry. He must make some sound, because Amenadiel comes to the doorway, his quiet voice drifting inside.

“Luci?”

“Hello, brother,” his voice is reedy and roughened, as though he’d been screaming on the rack for weeks. “Could I trouble you for a drink? My mouth tastes as though some type of reptile has been nesting in it.”

Amenadiel crosses the room and retrieves the Dreaded Sippy Cup of Water. Lucifer eyes it warily and he chuckles. “Best to stick with water for the moment, Luci, we don’t know what being without divinity will do for your alcohol tolerance.”

He takes a mouthful and screws up his face in discomfort as it slides grittily down his throat. His voice sounds a bit better when he asks, “So, it worked?”

Amenadiel wiggles the cup in front of him invitingly, and he obligingly drains the cup as his brother describes the procedure, and the outcome.

“Well the screaming certainly explains the rawness of my throat,” Lucifer muses quietly, “And I suppose the lack of divinity could account for the rest of it…”

“How are you feeling?”

“Still bloody waiting for you to stop asking me that,” he sniffs. “I feel as though I’ve been hit by a meteor. I ache all over, my head is pounding, and I can’t see or hear well _at all_. But- the burning inside has gone, and no more stabby sensation, so I’m cautiously optimistic that the Detective will be able to return to her normal life sooner rather than later, no matter the rest of my recovery time.”

“You don’t remember anything about the procedure at all?”

“We’ve already established that I don’t,” Lucifer prompts impatiently.

“You were screaming,” he hesitates, and Lucifer makes a weak ‘go on’ rolling motion with his right hand. “I think… I think you thought we were torturing you, but I don’t know if it was because of the delirium from the fever, or just that it was truly that painful. You were pleading, Luci, not be cast down, then for the burning to stop, that you were already going back to Hell… and you begged not to be left all alone again, that... that you preferred death.”

“Yes. Well,” Lucifer clears his throat, looking away uncomfortably. “It appears I got my wish, the burning _has_ stopped, and here you both are, so I’m certainly not alone, am I?”

“Are you still intending to return to Hell?”

“I…” he looks over at the peacefully sleeping Detective warm against him. “She says she loves me, brother, and I am… toxic. If I can convince her to release me of my promise to stay, it will be infinitely better for her.”

“Yes… about Chloe,” Amenadiel’s eyes slide to Chloe, still snoring obliviously at Lucifer’s side. “There was a development there as well.”

“Do tell, brother,” Lucifer glances at her anxiously, his arm weakly coming up around her waist.

“When your divinity was ejected, it… seems to have ‘nested’ in Chloe.”

“It did what, now?”

“It… when it divested from you it formed a whirlwind of light that closed around her and fused with her. Raphael says it’s apparently not going anywhere.”

“Well, what did he say it means?” Lucifer asks, bewildered. “Why would divinity attach itself to a human?”

“All Raphael could say was that he couldn’t find any physical changes so far, but he was intrigued enough that he offered to come and check in on you both yesterday, and again today.”

“Hm. Thank Dad for the curiosity of the scientific mind, I suppose.” He yawns widely. “How does she feel? What did she say?”

“Chloe lost consciousness when you did. You’ve both been sleeping since the procedure ended.”

“How long-?”

“You’ve been out for about 30 hours, it’s nearly Monday morning now.”

“I suppose I’ll try for a bit longer, then. I am knackered. Oh! The Detective is due to pick up the Urchin from school today- if she doesn’t wake in time we’ll need to make an arrangement to get her here.” He stifles another yawn. “Could I trouble you for some more liquid refreshment before I pass out again, brother? I hope it helps this infernal pounding in my head. I haven’t had a bloody headache like this since Gromos discovered he could make a drum set out of the Drakon skulls.”

Amenadiel brings him another cup of water and holds it as he drinks. "You're not poison, brother. You _do_ have a place here."

"It was in my name, Amenadiel, I tried to outrun it, but I'm so... tired... of running." he blinks heavily, his eyelids fighting to remain closed. "If she wakes up before I do, brother, make sure you tell her."

“Tell her what, Luci?”

“Poison’s gone. She… doesn’t have to… stay. Tell her.”

*********************

Chloe opens her eyes to a room doused in late-afternoon shadows. It’s a stark relief from the blinding whiteness of her dream, and she sighs contentedly. She can feel Lucifer’s steady heartbeat and his deep, even breaths rising and falling in his chest under her cheek, and lifts her head to really look at him.

Still sickly pale, bruise-colored bags still under his eyes, but the horrible red pathways under his skin are no longer visible, and his breathing is easier than it has been. He feels cool to her touch when she presses a hand to his cheek, but he leans into her palm with a sleepy murmur.

She feels little different than usual. She feels completely rested and recharged, but other than that she just feels like herself. _Maybe God was wrong about the divinity thing._ She sits up slowly, careful not to wake Lucifer as she scoots off the side of the bed and makes her way to the bathroom.

She catches sight of herself in the mirror and does a double-take. _Okay, maybe God_ wasn’t _wrong about the divinity thing._ Her skin is glowing. Not radioactive glowing, or glow-in-the-dark glowing, but there is a bit luminescence there. Not anything that couldn’t be explained away as a decent makeup or skin care regimen, but definitely something folks will comment on. Her eyes seem a bit brighter, and her hair just a little less disheveled than it should be after sleeping for – _wait, how long was I asleep?_

She leans over the countertop and examines her reflection more closely. It’s certainly nothing drastically notable. Dan probably wouldn’t even notice. All the familiar imperfections that make her face _her_ face are still there. If this is the only outward effect of parasitic divinity, she can live with this.

 _I’ll have to remember to ask Amenadiel about the actualization thing_. She’s not sure it’s something she wants to discuss with Lucifer yet, especially given his rocky relationship with his father. _Maybe best to tackle that now, while Lucifer’s asleep._

She washes the sleep from her eyes and wrestles a brush through her slightly-shinier-than-normal hair, then puts it up in loose bun before finding her bag and pulling out a fresh change of clothes. Once she’s satisfied, she finds Amenadiel sitting at the island in the enormous kitchen.

“Chloe! So good to see you’re awake, how are you feeling?” He greets her solicitously, gesturing for her to have a seat with him. “Can I get you some food?”

“I feel… really good. And… food sounds amazing, I’m starving.”

“Excellent. We were a little worried when you seemed to have a fever at first, but that seems to have cooled. Raphael came to check you yesterday and said he could find no real physical effects from your experience, but he’ll be back a little later this evening to check you again.”

“How long did I sleep? How’s Lucifer doing?”

“It’s Monday evening.” Chloe blinks in surprise; they had done the treatment in the wee hours of Sunday morning. 

_“Shit!”_ Chloe exclaims, surprising the angel. “Trixie! I’m supposed to get her from school!”

“Easy, Chloe, we know. Lucifer told me while he was awake this morning that we’d need to make arrangements to get her if you weren’t conscious yet. Maze got back in town early this morning and picked up Trixie from school, she’s going to bring her here once she’s done her homework and eaten dinner.”

“He was awake?” She relaxes now that she knows Trixie is taken care of. She’ll be _thrilled_ to see Maze again, they haven’t had a chance to reconnect since their falling out. And Lucifer had remembered to make arrangements so Trixie wasn’t forgotten. Her heart swells in her chest. Amenadiel slides a plate in front of her with a couple of sandwiches on it and she tears into it without hesitation. The angel grins at her enthusiasm.

“Lucifer was awake for a few minutes very early this morning, but fell back asleep quickly and hasn’t woken since.”

“Did Raphael examine him too?” she asks around a mouthful of turkey and cheese.

“He has, yes. We found that the poison was extracted with his grace, so he’s not feeling the effect of it anymore. Lucifer was very happy with that development, and wanted to make sure you knew, so you can get back to your normal life. He was _very_ clear that you should be told that you didn’t have to stay once you were awake.”

Chloe rolls her eyes as she polishes off the second sandwich. “He’s really very stubborn, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” Amenadiel tries and fails to smother a smile, “I think perhaps that’s something else the two of you have in common?”

“Maybe,” she chuckles, taking the glass of water Amenadiel hands her and polishing off half of it in a single gulp. “Really, though, how is he feeling?”

“He says he hurts, but we don’t know if it’s from the axe wound trauma or the aftereffects of the poison, or the loss of his divinity that’s causing it- or some combination of all three. He’s also frustrated because he’s still extremely weak. We’ve been keeping him warm and giving him Tylenol, since we’re not sure how well he can handle most of his usual ‘self-medicating’ methods without his divinity on board.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” Chloe agrees absently. “He should probably come back to my place, then.”

“Chloe, you don’t need to be near him any longer. You can go home if you like, Lucifer will likely want to stay here to recover, or go back to Lux. He won’t want to infringe on your hospitality or privacy any longer than he already has.”

“Are you staying with him, then?” she challenges, fists on her hips.

“I had intended to check in on him periodically-“

“No. Nope, no way. Not happening.” Chloe cuts him off. “The absolute last thing he needs right now is to be alone. You said it yourself, angels aren’t designed for solitude. He’s spent too much time that way as it is. He needs to be around the people that love him.”

“And that includes you?”

“Me. My daughter. Linda, Ella. You. Maybe even Maze, if she’s got her head out of her ass.”

He smiles and nods in acknowledgement. “I’ll let you try to convince him of that, then.”

“Great, thanks.” Her tone is dry and he snorts in amusement. “Have you seen my phone?”

“Yes, I put it on the charger in here. I did send Dan a text yesterday, just to let him know we’d had a… treatment-related emergency, and that you were sleeping off the stress.”

“Oh. Thank you.” She crosses the kitchen and disconnects the phone, scrolling through her log. A missed call from her mother, texts from Ella, Linda, Dan and Trixie. “Looks like Trix and Maze are on their way. I’m – uh… how am I going to get Trixie to school tomorrow? I don’t have a car.”

“Use mine, if you like. It’s outside. I’ve prepared one of the guest rooms for Trixie for tonight. You can take Trixie to school in the morning and stop by your apartment to get your vehicle before going about your day. I’ll pick it up there later.”

“That’s very nice of you, Amenadiel. Thank you.”

“I told you Chloe, we owe you an enormous debt for what you’ve done for Lucifer. Loaning you my car is the very least I could do.”

She scowls at him at the mention of debt, and he holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m merely saying that if I can help you, I _will_. You’re… family now, I suppose.”

“I… suppose we are.” She looks at him in surprise. Of course, she considers Lucifer family, and so does Trixie. She hadn’t realized that some of Lucifer’s family would extend that distinction to her and hers as well. “Amenadiel… what do you know about angelic actualization?”

He looks at her quizzically. “What do _you_ know about actualization, Chloe? Did Lucifer tell you something about it?”

“No… I, uh, had a little talk with your dad?” Chloe stammers. “He came to chat while I was sleeping, or unconscious, or whatever?”

“My father spoke to you?” Amenadiel’s expression is blank. “What did he say?”

“Just… some stuff. We talked a little about Lucifer, and this whole divinity thing.” She admits reluctantly. “He said something like it’s basically my divinity now, and I’ll have some actualization abilities, even though I’m not an angel.”

“Did he give you any ideas on what that means?”

Chloe thinks back on the conversation for a moment. “He said whether I used it or not was entirely up to me… I’ll heal faster if I get hurt. That I could slow or stop aging, or even just… become immortal if I really wanted to. But I don’t know how any of it works.”

“Well, Chloe- none of us really know how it works. Linda might be able to explain it to you a bit better, but it seems to reflect how we view ourselves. When I felt guilty and unworthy for things I had done, I lost my powers, and my wings.” He spreads his hands, gesturing first with one, then the other. “When Lucifer avoided a war with Heaven by convincing our Mother to go to a different universe, he got his wings back and lost his devil face. When Cain finally put your feelings above his own desires to manipulate you for his plan to die, he lost his mark and his immortality just like he’d wanted. But it seems to be largely ruled by our unconscious mind. I didn’t regain my wings until I needed them to take Charlotte to Heaven, and I still don’t have my time powers back.”

“So it’s not something that’s really controllable?”

“It doesn’t seem to be consciously controlled. Or at least, not for me or Lucifer.”

“Well, that’s more than I knew before.” Chloe tries not to be too disappointed on the lack of information she has about her new condition. “Thanks, Amenadiel, really. I think I’m going to go check on Lucifer before Trixie gets here.”

She hears his low voice rumbling from the bedroom and taps lightly on the door before opening it slightly to look inside. He has his telephone to the ear not pressed into his pillow, looking bleary-eyed and barely awake. He waves his hand lethargically, and she enters the room tentatively as he continues his mostly-one-sided conversation.

“…Yes… Well of course, darling- it sounds perfect for you…I trust Miss Lopez was excited for you as well? Mmhm… No, I’m feeling much better. I’ve had a… treatment… and now I simply need to recover from it. Yes. Oh, I hope to be back at Lux within a day or two, at most. No, I’m not likely to be ready to host for another bit, but… Oh. Well, I do appreciate the offer, Eve, but… No, I don’t think it will be necessary to have someone caring for me, I’m sure my strength will return rapidly now that the issue has been dealt with. No, she has been absolutely wonderful, but she does have a career to get back to, as well as her Offspring to care for. Yes, of course. She’s here now, actually, could I talk with you more later? All right. Take care, Eve, good-bye.” He hangs up the phone with a relieved sigh. “Thank you for saving me yet again, Detective.”

“What would you do without me?” she teases, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking the phone from his weak fingers to put it back on the bedside table.

“Nothing worth thinking about,” he murmurs, half asleep again already. “I wasn’t going to answer, but the bloody thing wouldn’t stop ringing…”

“I’ll take it into the kitchen and put it on the charger.” She brushes her thumb over the stubble on his cheek and he melts into his pillow. “Thank you for thinking of making arrangements for Trixie.”

“Mm?” he mumbles. “Oh, of course. Must make sure the Urchin doesn’t get shunted to the wayside. Not at all acceptable.”

“She’ll be here in a little bit. I’m sure she’ll want to come say hello, but I’ll try to keep it brief, and if you’re asleep I’ll try to make sure she doesn’t wake you.”

“Told you,” he slurs thickly, “ ‘s not a bother.”

“I know, you did.” She whispers as she leans forward and presses a soft kiss to his forehead. “ _You’re_ not a bother either, Lucifer. Trixie and I are going to talk you into coming home with us until we’re sure you’re back to yourself again. We’re not going to let you leave.” His only response is a soft sigh, and she touches his cheek gently before grabbing his phone and heading back out to the living area, adding it to the charging station there.

**********************

Trixie bursts through the door with Maze in tow, even more excited than Chloe remembers her being at Disneyland Paris.

“Mommy!! Lucifer has a _castle!!”_ she calls excitedly. “It has pointy-topped towers and _everything!”_

“I know, sweetie,” Chloe laughs, picking up her daughter and spinning her in a hug. “He told me that when he got it he thought you’d like it.”

Trixie looks toward the empty sitting room. “Where is he? Is he doing okay?”

“He had a treatment the other day, and he’s really, really sleepy right now. He’s only been awake a couple of times, but he says he’s feeling a lot better.” Trixie doesn’t look convinced. “His brother is a doctor, and says he just needs sleep and to regain his strength now that the stuff that made him sick is gone.”

“It’s gone? Really?” Her dark chocolate eyes are wide with concern.

“Yep. So now he just needs rest, and time to recover. He just fell asleep again a few minutes ago, but maybe he’ll be awake again so you can say hello before we go to bed, okay?”

“If I’m really quiet, can I go exploring??” Trixie pleads, and Chloe laughs.

“All right, Monkey. Be really quiet, take your phone in case you get lost, don’t touch anything and stay out of the pool and hot tub. Deal?”

“Deal!” Trixie squeals, then claps her hands over her mouth, giggling. “Quietly, I know!” She scampers up the stairs straightaway, so at least Chloe knows Lucifer will be undisturbed for a little while.

Maze has watched this entire exchange, silently leaning against the bar with her arms folded over her chest.

“Thanks for picking up Trixie, Maze, and for bringing her here.” Chloe offers nervously. She hasn’t seen her since she had lied to her about Trixie still being angry with her just after they’d returned from their trip.

“Amenadiel told me what you did.” The response is flat, like her glare. “Gotta say, Decker, I didn’t think you had it in you to go for straight-up murder. Respect.”

“If Amenadiel told you, then you know I _changed my mind_.”

“Hey, I’ve been there, Decker. I’ve tried to get Lucifer to go back to Hell several times since we settled up here. Never tried to _kill_ him, though. Well, okay, except that one time. But that was totally his idea.”

“It wasn’t supposed to kill him, the priest told me it was a sedative…” Chloe sighs, “And- wait, what? _You_ tried to kill him?”

“I was supposed to. He needed to get to Hell to find an antidote for that time you were poisoned. I chickened out, though. Couldn’t do it.”

“But… he _did_ get the antidote, but… from Hell?” Chloe shakes her head, confused. She’s overtaken by a memory.

_“Well. Look who's back. You didn't die after all. That makes one of us.”_

“Yeah, he got there in the end, took the paddles from me and stopped his own heart while Linda and I were arguing about it.”

“Okay,” Chloe whispers, squeezing her eyes shut. “Okay. I should probably check on Trixie. Are you going to stay with us, Maze?”

“Nah, I got another bounty. I’ll stop in and make sure he’s alive, then hit the road.”

“Thanks again, Maze. Really.”

“Sure Decker. It was good to see the kid again.” She stalks off toward the bedroom, and Chloe climbs the stairs, calling quietly for Trixie.

Trixie isn’t upstairs, and Chloe quickly realizes there’s another staircase on the other side of the house. Giving in to the inevitable, she simply heads straight for Lucifer’s bedroom. She finds her daughter, sitting on the edge of the bed kicking her heels and chatting quietly with a half-asleep Lucifer.

“Trix, you promised you wouldn’t-“

“ ‘salright, Detective, I was a’ready ‘wake” Lucifer’s voice rumbles sleepily from his roll of blankets.

“Yeah, I can tell,” she teases, smiling. “C’mon Trixi-babe, let’s go watch a movie in the sitting room and let Lucifer rest.”

“There’s a TV in the cabinet, if you want to stay in here,” he offers drowsily.

“Please, Mommy?” Trixie fixes her pleading eyes on her mother, who folds under the pressure.

An hour and a half later, Trixie is snuggled asleep in the bed between Lucifer’s snoozing, blanket-wrapped form and her mother, with the credits of a mediocre live-action remake of an animated movie from Chloe’s childhood rolling in the background. Chloe shuts off the television, and shakes her daughter awake to guide her to her guest room.

“He’s gonna be okay, right Mom?” Trixie asks drowsily as she pulls the blankets up over her shoulders.

"His brothers think he will, and so do I. He's got us to look after him until he's better, after all."

"Yeah, he does." Trixie goes quiet for a moment, then continues in a very small voice. "You're not afraid of him anymore, are you, Mommy? Because I think he needs us a lot, and if he thinks we're afraid of him... He's going to try to run away."

"I'm not afraid of him, baby." Chloe clears her throat, which is suddenly constricting. "I'm trying to figure out how to prove that to him so he'll stay with us. Maybe you can help me with that later, okay?

"Okay."

Chloe sits with Trixie until she falls asleep, and leaves the door open a little when she leaves. She pulls herself together on her way back to Lucifer's bedroom. He doesn't technically need her nearby anymore, but... Right now _she_ needs _him_.


	17. I’m So Bored With Being Horizontal.

Chloe changes into her pajamas and settles under the covers, pressing against his side. She lifts a hand to press against his cheek. His skin is still cool under her fingers, but it’s no longer clammy. She watches him sleeping as she runs over her revelations of the past couple days. Once he can stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time, they need to talk about a lot of things, and the top of the list is that he can choose to stay here.

_“I would like to see him choose happiness for himself.”_

She runs through her conversation with God again, wishing she’d had more time to think of questions to ask him. She turns over the puzzle on how to make Lucifer see that he belongs here. She knows him, and that he’ll continue to press for a release of the promise she extracted. If she keeps refusing to release him, he’ll start to resent her for curtailing his own free will. He needs to be able to choose… but she wants him to make the choice _not_ to self-destruct. She drifts into sleep as she’s pondering these options, and wakes to her alarm in the morning, Lucifer’s shivering frame pressed against her warmth.

She slides quietly from the bed and tracks down the cooling packs they used for his fevers. They serve another purpose now: she pops them in the microwave and takes them back to the bedroom, tucking them outside the blankets wrapped around him. She goes to wake Trixie and sets her to getting ready for school, then finds Amenadiel to sit with Lucifer while she leaves- just to make sure he doesn’t relapse without her presence nearby.

The empty space beside her feels cold as she drives Trixie to school. She stops at her apartment, darts upstairs to change the sheets on Maze’s (Lucifer’s) bed, and grabs some extra clothing for her and for Trixie, just in case he can’t relocate yet. She takes her own car back to Lucifer’s estate, stopping for some basic groceries on the way.

Amenadiel seems surprised to see her back so soon, and she rolls her eyes inwardly as she gives him his car keys. He departs to do whatever angels do in their spare time, and Chloe goes to check on Lucifer. The warming packs seem to be helping, at least he’s not shivering at the moment. She resists the urge to crawl back in the bed with him, and instead makes herself comfortable in the sitting room with a book from the library. (Of course this place has a library, she thinks to herself, _it’s a freaking castle.)_ The day passes slowly, and Lucifer doesn’t wake. He doesn’t even move, as far as she can tell, aside from the even rise and fall of his chest, and occasional twitching movements under his eyelids. She examines him carefully and thinks that he’s maybe a little less pale, but lines of exhaustion are still etched deeply on his face.

She starts getting anxious when the time nears to pick up Trixie and she doesn’t hear back from Amenadiel. She looks at her options, she can either try to wake Lucifer, try to get him to the car and take him with her; or she can mute his phone, leave it beside him with a note that she’ll be back soon, and let him rest. One look at his pinched face makes her decision for her. She finds a small notepad in the desk in the corner of his bedroom and scrawls her note, then retrieves his phone from the charging station. The notification light pulses and she sees he’s got a string of missed calls and texts. She sets it to silent and leaves it on top of the note on the bedside table, pressing a quick kiss to his temple as she turns to leave.

She actually _speeds_ a little as she picks up Trixie. Only 5 over, but she feels like Lucifer would be proud of her. Trixie’s excited to find out they’ll be spending another evening in the castle house, and Chloe laughs as she promises that this time she’ll _actually_ explore, instead of just sneaking off to see Lucifer.

They arrive at the estate and Trixie scampers off with a reminder to avoid the pool and hot tub. Chloe hurries to the bedroom and stops cold at the door. The bed is empty, the covers cascading over the side as if Lucifer had simply tumbled from the bed.

_Where is he?_

She freezes in place, thinking, and hears a small sound coming from the bathroom. She finds him there, sitting slumped against the vanity and shivering.

“Lucifer,” she whispers worriedly, as she kneels next to him. “what happened?”

“Thirsty,” he croaks, not bothering to open his eyes.

Eyes burning, she stands immediately and grabs the glass from the sink, filling it and bringing it to his lips. He nearly chokes in his eagerness to drink, and she moves her free hand to steady his head until the glass is empty.

“More?” she asks, her voice trembling, and at first he does not answer.

Then, softly, “Please.” He empties his second glass, and rests his head against the vanity with a quavering sigh.

“Ready to get back to the bed?” she suggests gently.

“I- I don’t think I can stand, Detective.”

“You crawled in here, didn’t you.” She doesn’t phrase it as a question, and he doesn’t answer. “Lucifer…” She stands and goes back into the bedroom, returning with one of the blankets from the bed.

“What-?”

“Just… shut up, and roll onto this blanket.” She places the blanket on the floor next to him, helping him transfer himself onto it and gently laying him back. Once he’s laying there, she gathers the corners and tugs the blanket with her, gliding him over the smooth flooring back to the side of the bed.

“Clever, Detective.”

“We still need to get you up onto the bed. Do you think you can boost yourself that far, if I help?”

“I suppose we’ve only one way to find out.”

“Once we’ve got you up there, do you want to be sitting, or laying down?”

“Sitting, please. I’m so bored with being horizontal.”

“Never thought I’d hear those words from your mouth,” she teases playfully, sparking a smirk across his lips.

“Variety in positioning is important, Detective. In so many ways.”

“Mmhm,” she agrees absently as she moves the nightstand away from the bed to maneuver him closer. “Okay, pull your feet in so your knees are bent, grab around my shoulder and I’ll boost from under yours. Just a quick push up, then you can lean straight back onto the mattress and we’ll brace you against the headboard and swing your legs up. Easy-peasy.”

It works just as smoothly as she describes and they both rest there for a moment, panting with exertion and arms tangled around one another.

“Easy-peasy,” Lucifer parrots tiredly, as Chloe places the blankets back over him, making him lean forward to pass one around his shivering shoulders as well. “Thank you again, Detective.”

“It’s my fault, I should have left you some water by the bed. You’ve been asleep since last night, and I don’t think you even drank anything then… I’ve been neglecting you.”

“I am _not_ your responsibility, darling,” he counters softly, though there’s a slight bitterness to his tone. “I honestly didn’t think you’d be returning, now that your presence isn’t necessary to keep the poison from killing me.”

She glares at him for a moment, then turns back to the bathroom, returning to set his freshly filled sippy cup on the bedside table, which she then moves back into place beside him.

“We need to have a conversation, Lucifer,” she perches on the edge of the bed next to him, and takes his hand as he eyes her warily. “I don’t know how to make you understand, but I’m going to keep trying. I know you think I was only here because I had to be, but that’s not the case here-“

“Detective-“

“I know you want me to release you from your promise to stay, and I know you’re intending to go back to Hell because you think I’ll be happier, or safer, or-“

_“Detective-“_

“whatever, but… Lucifer I need you believe me when I say _I love you_ , and I want you to choose to stay.”

“Toldja, Lucifer.” Her daughter’s smug voice comes from the doorway to the room, and Chloe feels a flush crawl up her neck. “We’re your family. You _belong_ here.”

“I take it you’re enjoying exploring the house, Urchin?” he arches an eyebrow at her in inquiry, and she giggles as she jumps onto the bed and crawls up to curl against him.

“I’m glad you’re awake. How do you feel?”

“I do wish that you all would stop bloody asking me that.” He sighs in resignation. “I’m feeling much better, Offspring. I’m sure I’ll be absolutely fine soon.” He reaches over for his cup and carefully lifts the straw to his mouth. His hand shakes a little, but he manages to finish his drink and set it back on the table without mishap.

“So are you going to come back home with us, or are we staying here with you?” She presents the question as though these are the only two possibilities, and Chloe suppresses a smirk. Lucifer doesn’t stand a chance against the onslaught.

“You are, of course, welcome to stay as long as you like, but I had intended to go back to Lux to recover, Spawn.”

“Oh, cool! We get to stay at your place?? Can I get in your hot tub??” Trixie squeals in excitement, and Lucifer suppresses a wince.

“I suppose you would need to check with your mother about your options, child.” He redirects desperately, glancing at Chloe with wide, imploring eyes.

“Well, Lucifer?” She smirks. “Your place, my place, or this place?”

He heaves a long-suffering sigh and rests his head against the headboard with a solid thunk. “I suppose your apartment would be the most convenient for you and your offspring, Detective. Just until I’m back on my feet, then.”

“Can we come back to this house sometimes to swim?” Trixie asks eagerly, and Lucifer huffs a weak laugh

“Of course, Urchin. Anytime you like.”

“We can talk about when we’ll relocate a little later, but right now, we need to fix dinner. I picked up ingredients for tacos on the way back this morning. Lucifer, when did you even last eat?”

“I had lunch…” he trails off for a moment. “On… Saturday? With you?”

“That’s the last time you ate?!”

“I’ve been… asleep?”

“Lucifer, you can’t just not… how often do you normally eat?”

“Typically, whenever I want to.” 

“Aren’t you hungry?? God, no wonder you’re weak, you haven’t eaten for four days!”

“Please leave my Father out of this, and I don’t really – What does hungry feel like?”

 _Of course he doesn’t know… he’s never really needed food._ “Lucifer, I’m pretty sure that you need to make sure you’re eating more frequently until your divinity comes back.” _And_ clearly _I need to watch him closely. He doesn’t even know how to tell what he needs right now._

****************

She makes a sandwich and has Trixie bring it to him to eat while they make dinner. She returns with a plate empty even of crumbs and very wide eyes.

“Mommy, I’ve never seen _anyone_ eat a sandwich so fast!”

“Yeah, baby, he’s been too busy sleeping to eat for a while. So we’re gonna make dinner and make sure he eats some more once that sandwich has had a little bit to settle in his stomach.”

They finish dinner prep and transport the plates to the bedroom to eat. They find Lucifer dozing, but he wakes readily enough when they seat themselves next to him, and tucks in to dinner with enthusiasm. Chloe makes sure he drinks at least two more cups of water before he falls asleep again during their movie.

The next morning she leaves several slices of toast and jam and another glass of water on the bedside table before taking Trixie to school and stopping at the grocery store again to get some nonperishable snacks to keep near Lucifer so he won't have to ask for food when he's hungry between meals.

She arrives back at the house and finds Raphael leaning over Lucifer's sleeping form. She clears her throat to announce her presence, and he waves a dismissive hand in her direction until he finishes his exam. Once complete, he exits the room and his piercing gaze focuses on her. 

"Still feeling normally, Ms. Decker?" He asks cursorily. 

"Mmhmm, no difference that I can tell. How's Lucifer?"

"He has some minute traces of divinity starting to regenerate. He is still severely weakened, but I sense improvement since his last exam."

"And how am I?"

"Your divinity levels haven't changed since it was transferred to you. I see no changes in your physical condition. I'll return again in a few days for a final follow up."

"Raphael?" He pauses, turning reluctantly back in her direction. "Can you tell me anything about the process behind angelic actualization?"

"Why do you ask?"

"There was some speculation that I might have the capacity for it, but I have no idea how it works."

"Most angels have no idea it even exists, so it's not surprising that a human like you knows nothing about it." Raphael scoffs. “The only real instances I have seen of it have been in Amenadiel, the patient, and his twin."

“His- Lucifer has a _twin_?” Chloe gets slightly derailed for a moment, while Raphael merely looks at her, eyebrows raised. “Okay, nevermind that. What do _you_ know about actualization, then?”

“Merely that it manifests based on our subconscious desires, and often in unexpected ways.” He lifts his hands, an empty offering. “Anything else, Ms. Decker?”

“No,” she says begrudgingly. “Thanks for answering my question, Raphael. See you in a few days.”

She stops back in the bedroom to grab the now-empty plate and finds Lucifer sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Good morning! Looks like you’re feeling a little better?”

“Yes, better,” Lucifer murmurs quietly.

“Hey. You okay?” She sits next to him, but he doesn’t meet her eyes. “What’s going on?”

“You were asking Raphael about actualization,” he says simply. “It seems you were right, we _are_ overdue for a conversation. Where did you hear that term?”

“I… heard it from your dad.” The silence between them feels heavy, and she takes it as an invitation to continue. “When I got, uh… adopted by your divinity, I spent some time in an empty white space. For a while, it was only me there, but then a man appeared, and introduced himself as your father.”

“And how did that little tête-à-tête pan out?” Lucifer seethes bitterly

“Well… to be honest, it kind of made me nauseous. Your dad may have the reputation for benevolence, but he comes across as a bit of a dick.”

A harsh bark of laughter bursts from his throat and he turns to look at her for the first time, dark eyes incredulous.

"His communication skills truly suck." She shrugs, and he snorts softly, transferring his gaze back to his hands clenched on his thighs. "And he comes across as a bit of a mad scientist type with all his talk about design."

"You talked about design with my father?"

"Not design in general... More, um, yours specifically. And mine." She shakes her head. "The actualization came up in relation to the fact that apparently my new divinity is here to stay and I wanted to know what that meant."

"Care to share, Detective?" His voice is terse, he's clearly expecting her to decline.

"This is one of the things I've been wanting to talk to you about anyway Lucifer, of course I'll tell you." His shoulders relax slightly and she sees his eyes flicker to her face before focusing back on his hands. “When he first showed up, I was mostly just worried about getting back to check on you- the last thing I saw was your feathers disintegrating, and then you just collapsing lifelessly. He told me your brothers were taking care of you and that I didn’t need to worry.”

Lucifer doesn’t flinch when she tells him about their discussion of his design, which had been one of the parts she had worried about the most.

“Yes, of course, Detective. Angels are aware of their purpose from the time of their creation, how else to fulfill our duties?”

When she tells him about the reasoning behind his Fall, though, he folds in on himself.

“Hey. Talk to me?” She reaches out to grasp his shoulder, but he doesn’t acknowledge her until she moves closer and wraps her arm around him in a sideways hug.

“It’s fine, Detective, it’s nothing I didn’t already know: I was cast out as result of my design. I was created deliberately faulty. It changes nothing.” His face is still turned away from her, and she can’t see his expression.

“You’re not faulty, Lucifer, but it’s still a shitty thing for your dad to do.” She squeezes him tightly. “But, he also told me that Hell doesn’t need you as a ruler anymore, not now that your initial duties are complete. He said that you can choose to stay here. That he hoped you would choose to be happy.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t immediately shelve my skepticism, Detective. Did you discuss anything else with Him before he disappeared?”

“He said that aside from putting me here, the only things he’s done were a resistance to divinity exposure, and resistance to your mojo. That my life and choices were entirely my own.”

“I’m glad that He hasn’t been manipulating you, Detective. I can assure you it’s not a pleasant feeling.” He glances at her and stiffens suddenly, as if only just realizing how close she is. “Was there anything else, Detective?”

“He told me a little about actualization, but he didn’t mention anything about how it works –“

“Typical,” Lucifer snorts.

“-so I asked Amenadiel and Raphael, but neither of them could tell me much other than that it seems to follow the subconscious. He said I’d heal faster than normal now, and maybe some other things but that ultimately whether to use it or not was up to me.” She debates for a moment about sharing the last bit of information she can remember, but decides that nothing other than full disclosure will do. “Then, just before he left I asked him about your rebellion… if it would have been so bad for the rest of the host to have been granted free will like you asked.”

“Did you get your answer, Detective?”

“He said… that they already have it, they only have to claim it, as you did.”

“He said what now?” Lucifer’s eyes are wide, and blank with surprise. They sit in silence as Lucifer ponders this revelation. "I... suppose it makes sense. Amenadiel wouldn't have been able to Fall as he did without free will, and Uriel certainly couldn't have done what he did. So it's merely... habit, I suppose, that my siblings don't make choices of their own?"

"He didn't say. But he did say that the reason - or maybe just one of the reasons?- that he doesn't speak to you all directly is because anything he expresses tends to come across as an order. So he only communicates indirectly..."

“And he said that I can-“ Lucifer’s quiet musing is interrupted by the shrill ringing of his cell, and he pulls away from her embrace. He sucks in a deep breath as he looks at the display and answers. “Hello, Eve. How is the new job going?”

Chloe's heart sinks a little, as it does every time Eve calls. She stands up and moves to the kitchen to begin lunch preparations and to give him some privacy.


	18. I Meant Every Word

She returns to his room with a platter of grilled cheese sandwiches, and finds him leaning breathlessly in the doorframe looking pale again.

“Should you be standing?” She worries, hurrying to set down the platter to support him.

“I wanted a change of scenery,” he grumbles, still frustrated with his weakness. “I’m bloody sick and tired of being…”

“Sick, and tired?” she suggests gently, guiding him out to the couch in the sitting room. He growls, and she chuckles. “Raphael said your divinity is starting to return, so hopefully you’ll start picking up as it does.”

“I do feel better,” he admits as she retrieves the platter and sets it down on the coffee table in front of them. He reaches for a sandwich with a shaking hand, and she goes to get drinks for them both.

“How is Eve adjusting to her new job?” she takes a sandwich for herself and relaxes on the couch next to him, tucking her legs underneath her.

“She’s still enthusiastic about it, but it _is_ only her third day.” He answers dryly. “She seems determined to relay to me everything she’s learning. Perhaps if I get bored with Lux I’ll open a flower shop.”

“Somehow, I’m feeling that the odds on that are low.”

“Infinitesimal.”

She finishes her sandwich, and Lucifer reaches for his third. His appetite has been voracious since he discovered that he feels stronger when he eats. They finish their meal in companionable silence before he speaks again.

“When are you and your Spawn intending to relocate to your apartment, Detective?”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

“I’ve wanted to discuss-“

“No.”

“No, what?” He lifts an interrogational eyebrow.

“No, we’re not going to let you go back to Lux by yourself.”

“It wouldn’t necessarily have to be by myself,” he offers tentatively, “though that would be my first preference. Eve has offered many times to come and stay with me until I’m well enough to get back on my feet.”

“Lucifer, less than a week ago you were reluctant to let her visit you at _my_ place because you were afraid she would never leave.” Chloe points out skeptically. “I understand if you want to be rid of me, but-“

“I’m merely offering you freedom, Detective. I know you’re eager to return to work, and I truly am capable of caring for myself.”

“Says the man who didn’t realize he needed to eat to keep up his strength, and needed substantial support to make it from his bedroom to the sitting room.” She snaps ruthlessly. Lucifer shifts his shoulders against the back of the couch, but doesn’t meet her gaze. “Lucifer, if you want me to go-“

“That’s not what I’m saying, Detective.” He interrupts quietly.

"Then what _are_ you saying?" She nearly shouts in frustration.

"I know you think that I am not listening to you, when you say you want me to stay. But neither are you listening to me, when I tell you that I am not worthy of your regard. That I am a monster, a poison to any that dare to care about me." He grimaces as though his words are sour. "Somehow you seem to accept the fact that I do not lie, yet you also frequently refuse to believe what I tell you. It's an extremely vexing situation I find myself in with you far too often, Detective."

“You-” Chloe opens her mouth to defend herself, but stops short, deflating. “You’re right.”

He glances at her in surprise, not expecting to win this debate so easily. “So, you agree that it would better for you and the Urchin for me to go back to Lux while you return to your lives.”

“What?” she gasps, horrified. _“No_ , of course not!”

“Then, what-“

“I meant, you’re right, I’ve been a hypocrite. I _know_ you don’t lie, but I’ve just dismissed you every time you’ve told me something I haven’t wanted to hear.” She pulls in a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. This is a critical conversation, and she can’t afford to screw it up. “When you tell me you’re a monster, that you’re unworthy, that you’re poison- I believe that you see _yourself_ that way, and Lucifer, that breaks my heart. Because… because you’re looking at yourself in a broken mirror, the same way everyone sees themselves, through the worst possible perspective. But what _you_ see and what those of us that love you see… those are two very different things. I’ve met lots of monsters in my years on the force, Lucifer, and I wish you would believe me when I tell you that _you are not one of them._ We’ve all had to do some horrible things, but we can’t let those things define us. You have worked so hard to be better, to _do_ better, even just in the short time I’ve known you. Linda certainly wouldn’t consider you a friend if she thought you weren’t a good person. I wouldn’t be comfortable with my daughter claiming you as one of her best friends if you were poison. And… I couldn’t love a monster, Lucifer.”

“You loved Cain,” he refutes tentatively; reluctant to hurt her, but needing to make his point.

“I didn’t.”

“You were going to marry him, Detective. You wouldn’t have accepted him if you didn’t.”

“I had a conversation about this with Ella not long before I saw your face, after I broke up with Pierce and hadn’t slept all night. Do you want to know what I told her?”

His eyes meet hers and he nods uncertainly. “I told her that the reason I said yes to Pierce’s proposal- and the reason I eventually said no- was you. You can ask her- she’ll verify.” She blinks, and feels a tear skip down her face. “I felt like you were pushing me away, and I chased after the first guy that showed the slightest bit of interest to try to soothe that hurt. I never loved him, Lucifer. I couldn’t… I was already in love with you.”

He shrinks into himself and closes his eyes, shaking his head in denial. “Detective, don’t-“

“Luci!” A rush of air heralds the arrival of an excited Amenadiel. “You’re up!”

“I am indeed, brother,” Lucifer agrees mildly. “And for once, your timing is impeccable. What brings you to my humble abode?”

Chloe snorts at his choice of adjectives, and gives him a ‘this conversation is not done’ look. He merely lifts an eyebrow, turning his attention to his savior.

“Only checking in. I know you don’t enjoy the hovering, but Linda insisted that I stop by.”

“Ah yes, the good Doctor checking on her patient. I’m still trying to convince the Detective that I would be perfectly fine left to my own devices, but apparently I’m to accompany her and the Offspring back to their apartment this evening.”

Amenadiel raises his eyebrows at Chloe, impressed at her persistence. “I’m sure Linda will be glad to hear that you won’t be alone, Luci, she’s been worried.”

 _Was she worried he’d be alone, or worried he’d be alone with me?_ Chloe wonders hopelessly as Amenadiel continues. “Has Raphael been by?”

“Yes, he was here this morning. He says that my grace is starting to come back, but it’s still very low. Same with my strength.”

“He actually spoke to you?” A smile starts to break across his face.

“No, of course not. I overheard him telling the Detective when she asked him while he was examining her.”

“Ah.” The smile disappears. “Well, I suppose that does sounds more like what I’d expect from him. And how are you, Chloe?”

“I’m fine, and Raphael agrees. I’m still appalled that Lucifer went three days without eating because none of us realized that without his divinity to sustain him, he would _need_ to eat.”

“But angels don’t—oh.”

“Yeah, oh. We had that little moment yesterday.”

“I’ve been making up for it since then,” Lucifer offers, gesturing to the empty, crumb-covered platter in front of them.

“Brother, I’m so sorry- the oversight was entirely mine, I should have warned you about what hunger feels like, and I should have checked on you sooner.” Amenadiel sinks into one of the chairs and leans forward earnestly.

“It’s all worked out now,” Lucifer snaps irritably. “As I keep telling the Detective, I am not anyone’s responsibility, and none of you need to waste your _pity_ on a monster such as myself.” He stands unsteadily and starts back toward the bedroom, weaving until he reaches the wall for support as Chloe and Amenadiel stare after him in shock, not daring to offer the help he clearly does not want.

He disappears into the bedroom, and they listen as he staggers and collapses onto the bed with a muffled groan.

They each turn their gaze to the other, sharing helplessness.

“I’ve been trying to convince him to accept help. That he’s deserving of help, affection… love.”

“I take it that it’s not an easy task?”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.” Amenadiel’s eyebrows crease in confusion and she closes her eyes to keep herself from rolling them. “Nevermind. I think Trix and I have made some small progress, at least he’s agreed to stay with us until he’s back on his feet.”

“How did you manage that?”

“Mostly Trixie… she was a little too excited about the possibility of staying at Lux, so he folded and agreed to stay at my apartment instead.” She huffs a soft laugh, shaking her head. “I don’t know how to make him believe me, Amenadiel. I can’t- I lost his trust; I don’t _deserve_ his trust after what I’ve done. But… the thought of him leaving? Of not having him here, playing at Lux, goofing off at the precinct… it makes me feel sick.”

“I know, Chloe. I’ll talk to Linda. See if she has any suggestions on a starting point. Will you need help relocating?”

“I’ll give him a few hours to rest. I think he can make it out to the car by the time I go pick up Trix, and we’ll head to the apartment. I’ll call you if we need help getting him upstairs?”

“Of course.” Amenadiel stands and hesitates as he looks in the direction of the bedroom. He deliberates for a moment, but in the end he turns away and retreats.

Chloe waits for him to leave, squares her jaw and marches into the bedroom to continue their conversation. She enters and finds Lucifer curled under the blankets on his left side, facing away from the door.

“Lucifer?” No answer. She sighs and sits on the bed next to him, resting her hand on his shoulder. His very tense shoulder. “Trixie is better at pretending to be asleep than you are, you know.”

“No doubt the Spawn has had more practice,” he grumbles, unmoving. “I suppose you’ve come to try to convince me some more? Or have you finally come to your senses?”

“Well, I still love you, so I suppose you would still consider me crazy.” She teases gently. “So I guess I’ll just have to keep trying to convince you.”

“Yes, I heard you out there.” He curls tighter around himself. “My senses are dulled, but I could still hear most of your conversation.”

“I meant every word, Lucifer.”

He rolls onto his right side, facing her so he can bury his forehead against her hip. She rests her hand on his head, threading her fingers into his hair. “I know.”

 _Maybe,_ she thinks, _maybe he can be persuaded._

They stay that way for hours, Lucifer drowsing intermittently as Chloe sits with him. She eventually rouses him in order to go pick up Trixie, and he only protests a little as she helps him to the sitting room before letting him rest while she moves their bags to the trunk of the car. They get him into the car, and Trixie is ecstatic to see him out and about, chattering away as they head back to their apartment.

Lucifer almost makes it into the apartment without help, only needing Chloe’s help to get from the doorway to collapse onto the couch. Trixie spreads her homework on the coffee table in front of the couch and works diligently while Lucifer conducts Lux business on his phone, seeing to orders and any little problems that have sprung up in his absence.

After Trixie goes to bed, Lucifer manages to make it upstairs with only support from Chloe before he falls into the bed. Chloe stands at the bedside for a moment before retreating to her own bedroom. She changes into her pajamas and crawls under her covers, staring into the darkness in front of her. Her bed feels cold and she curls into a ball, resolutely focusing on nothing but sleep. Finally, she manages to drift into a fitful doze.

_********************_

_Lucifer writhes on the floor, axe protruding from his chest. She drops to her knees beside him, cradling his charred face in her hands as blood runs from his cracked lips. His rasping gasps rattle in his chest, and black traces of veins crawl across his burnt skin. Hooded, molten eyes bore into hers and his melted lips form words that she cannot read. He lifts a shaking hand to touch her cheek but it turns to ash before it reaches her, more of him crumbling away as she watches in horror. His gaze shifts from her eyes to just over her shoulder, and she turns her head to find crystalline wings mantled over the two of them, sprouting from her shoulders. He heaves a bubbling sigh as his body disintegrates into a smoldering, powdery pile of cinders._

_“Lucifer, no,” she breathes, and the wings stir the air, scattering his remains until nothing is left behind but a tiny golden vial._

_“Well done, Chloe.” Kinley’s voice echoes around her as she picks up the vial, her body wracked with shuddering sobs. “I knew you could do it. I knew you were the key to ridding the world of this evil.”_

_She closes her wings around herself, lucent feathers surrounding her in a shining cocoon-_

She awakens huddled in her blankets, keening into her pillow, some hidden instinct _not to wake Trixie_ stifling the sounds of her distress. Tears soak her pillow as her mind’s eye shows her the sadness in Lucifer’s smoldering eyes as he burns to ash and flutters away in the draft from her wings. Again. And again.

_He’s fine. He’s **fine**. He’s just down the hall, in Maze’s bedroom, sound asleep._

It’s useless. She slips out of bed and pads down the hall, silently cracking open the door to his room. She stands at the door for a moment, but it’s too far away- she can’t hear or see him breathing from here. She can’t be _sure_. She crosses the room and sinks to the floor beside him, her back braced against the mattress and her knees pressed to her chest. Lucifer lays curled on his right side and she closes her eyes, allowing herself to be soothed by his deep, even breaths. She doesn’t know how long she’s been there when she feels the warmth of a broad palm on top of her head.

“Detective?” His voice is soft, raspy with sleep. “What are you doing down there?”

“I guess I’m… basking?”

“Hm?”

“Nothing. I just- I had a nightmare. And… I needed to make sure you were okay.”

“You had a nightmare about me?”

“No, about something _happening_ to you. Then you were gone, and… I woke up and needed to make sure you were okay.”

The hand slides down the side of her head, clumsily stroking her hair. “You should get some rest, Detective.”

“I will,” she promises. “I just- I can’t leave yet.”

He chuffs a quiet laugh and pulls his hand away. “Come on, then, Detective, lay down with me. I can’t just leave you there on the floor.”

She stands and circles the foot of the bed to what she proprietarily considers ‘her’ side of the bed and lingers there, long enough for Lucifer to roll onto his back and reach out his hand to her.

“The sooner you lie down, the sooner we _both_ can get back to sleep, darling.” His voice is thick with fatigue, but he beckons welcomingly with his hand. She slips under the blankets and he draws her close, her head coming to rest on his shoulder. He feels the tension bleed from her frame and he leans his cheek against the top of her head. “Better now?”

She nods against him, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek, the warmth of his arm around her shoulders. “Thank you,” she murmurs against his shoulder.

“Good night, Detective. Sleep well.”


	19. Very Funny, Detective

The next day, Lucifer insists that Chloe get some ‘me-time”, so she obligingly runs some errands and stops for coffee after taking Trixie to school, grabbing a to-go cup and a couple pastries for Lucifer as she leaves.

She opens the front door quietly in case he’s sleeping, but she finds him fully dressed and sitting at her bar, shoulders hunched with his head resting in his hands. He acknowledges her with a weary “Good morning Detective.”

“You sound like you need coffee. And sugar.” She places the bag and cup in front of him, scooting them closer as he shoots her a grateful smile. “You okay? Need some help getting upstairs for a nap?”

“No, Detective, my lassitude is purely mental at the moment, I’ve just had another conversation with Eve, and I’m trying to decide my next course of action.” He opens the bag and croons happily at the donuts inside, offering her one before taking one for himself. “Eve’s time at the Waldorf is up, and she needs to start thinking about a more permanent place to live. She won’t have a paycheck for another couple of weeks, and she is reluctant to allow me to procure a place for her.”

“Finding a place is tough,” Chloe commiserates, “but if she says she doesn’t want your help, there’s really not anything you can do.”

“It’s not that she doesn’t want my help,” he grumbles around his mouthful of donut, flexing his shoulders as though they’re sore. “She’s just being particular about the kind of assistance she’s willing to accept.”

“Oh,” she blinks, nonplussed. “What kind of help does she want?”

“She wants to know if she can come stay at Lux. She’s offered to act as my caretaker in repayment.” He takes a deep swig of his coffee as though wishing it were whiskey. “I’ve offered to pay an extension on her suite at the Waldorf, or a different hotel if she prefers. I’ve also offered to help her find an apartment and cover her rent until she gets her feet under her, but she’s refused.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers, Lucifer,” Chloe narrows her eyes at Lucifer’s grimace. “If she’s not willing to accept the help you’re willing to offer, then that seems like it’s her problem, not yours.”

“I can’t help but feel somewhat responsible for her well-being, Detective.” Lucifer’s dark eyes meet hers earnestly. “She left Heaven to come and visit _me_ , I have a duty of care.”

“Lucifer it’s very… _noble_ of you to be so concerned about your friend’s well-being,” Chloe begins slowly, thinking over her words carefully before speaking. “You didn’t _ask_ her to come here, she made that choice herself. You’ve been trying so hard to keep her at a distance since she’s been here- what is it about her that’s making you so nervous?”

“I’m not certain of her intentions here.” He replies quietly after a moment. “We have a history together, she and I. She told me at lunch that she came for _me_ , but that she could see that I had changed since our time together, and she thought she needed to adjust needed to be _more_ , whatever that means. I told her then that we couldn’t go back to what we had been before, that it would never work out.”

He falls silent, and Chloe prompts him after a few moments. “How did she take that?”

“She… agreed, and said she hoped we could be friends. But our conversations since still seem to reflect a desire for more than friendship. I only…” He looks down at his hands clasped around his coffee cup, as though he’s soaking in the warmth. “I don’t want to lead her on, she deserves better than that, better than me.”

“What do _you_ want?”

“What _I_ want appears to be irrelevant, as you’ve already extracted a promise from me to stay until you release me.” His voice is sharp, and dangerously low. The devil does not appreciate being leashed, and her stomach lurches.

“You don’t actually _want_ to go back, though, do you?” she beseeches. “You told me that you wanted to go because you think bad things happen to people who love you. That’s not _your_ desire, that’s you misguidedly trying to protect us from yourself. You’ve always said how much you hated being in Hell.”

“Bad things _do_ happen to any who dare to get close to me, Detective, we’ve been over this. But back to the subject of Eve- I haven’t the faintest idea. I don’t want her to be homeless, but neither do I want to be guilted into living with her.”

An idea occurs to Chloe, and she ponders it a moment before she puts it forward. “Lucifer… what’s your relationship like with Maze at the moment?” He lifts his head, puzzled by the apparent change in subject.

“Cordial, I suppose. We’ve made up after her betrayal with Cain.”

Chloe nods slowly. “Do you know where she’s staying right now? I mean, since she hasn’t come back to the apartment…”

“Yes… she came to me after you left, so I let her use her old apartment below the penthouse at Lux. Why do you ask, Detective?”

“Because… I’m thinking it might be time for a girls’ night out. We can see if Maze might be interested in a temporary roommate?”

“Oh, that _is_ brilliant!” A wide smile breaks upon his face, lighting the warm brown depths of his eyes. He pulls out his phone and taps the screen. “We’ll see if she’s willing to help in this.”

Chloe sends out a text to the Tribe suggesting a girls’ night tomorrow, then settles at the bar next to Lucifer, picking at her donut. The silence between them is comfortable as they wait for responses to their texts. Eventually Lucifer leans in to nudge her shoulder with his own.

“When are you planning to go back to work, Detective?” He smiles down at her, and she takes a moment to study him. His color is nearly back to normal, the bags beneath his eyes diminishing daily, but still easily noticeable. He still spends a good amount of time sleeping, but his strength was returning, and he’d obviously made it downstairs without help this morning.

“Dan's got Trixie this weekend… I could go back Monday, if you’re doing well enough to be alone?” She’s surprised to realize that the idea of going back to work doesn’t pull as strongly as it normally would- if he’s not going to be working with her. “When do you think _you’ll_ be coming back to work?”

“I’m afraid I would be more of a liability than an asset at the moment until I regain my strength,” he admits wryly. “I can return to Lux anytime, I’m aware enough now of my current limits and requirements that I no longer require extra care.”

“I’m surprised you’re so eager to get back to Lux now that we’re trying to convince Maze to take Eve in as a roommate living just a floor below you, Lucifer.” She teases gently.

“Oh, very funny Detective.” He wriggles his shoulders again in an odd shrug. “Are you certain you even _want_ me back on the job? This injury and recovery could be the perfect excuse to write me out of your professional life without a plethora of intrusive questions.”

 _And we’re back to this_. It’s her turn to slump forward and rest her head in her hands. “I know you’re probably eager to get some distance from me,” she begins hesitantly. “and I understand why. Lucifer, I swear to- to _you_ that I want you here. At work. In my life. Whatever you are comfortable with, whatever you decide, I’ll accept. I just… I really hope that you choose to keep me in _your_ life.” Her eyes brim with tears, though she manages to keep her voice from shaking.

They’re sitting closely enough that she feels his shoulders start to shake, and she glances at him in surprise- surely he’s not crying?

“Lucifer-?”

He’s not crying. He’s _laughing_. Silently at first, only the shaking of his shoulders giving him away but then it gains in volume and intensity until he’s bent over, eyes squeezed shut and holding his stomach, trying to suck in painful breaths around the unrestrained bursts of mirth escaping from him as she looks on, utterly perplexed.

Finally, the nearly-hysterical laughter subsides into painful-sounding hiccoughs, and he heaves a deep breath as he leans against her. She slowly reaches out a hand and rubs her palm between his shoulders in calming circles, and he groans and presses back against her hand.

“Feel better?” she queries cautiously. “What on Earth was that about?”

“Your hand feels amazing, my back and shoulders have been itching abominably,” he explains.

“And the… laughing?”

“Just a reminder of a conversation I’d had with the good Doctor not too long ago, Detective.”

“Oookay… care to share?” She continues to rub his back, and feels the tension in the muscles there relaxing under her ministrations.

“I’m sure you remember the night of our failed dinner attempt, with the ill-fated white tablecloth. The night you accepted Cain.” She nods silently, not wanting to interrupt his train of thought. “Not long after you left Lux, Linda came over, and we had a conversation. She was hoping to help me avoid making a total disaster of that dinner, but unfortunately she was a bit late. By then, I’d already realized what I’d done wrong- that I should have just _told_ you how I felt, rather than simply trying to one-up Cain. She asked me – the devil- what I desired. Much like you asked me a few minutes ago.”

“What did you say?”

“I said-“ he hesitates and for a moment she’s afraid he won’t answer, but he pulls in a deep breath, tenses and continues. “I told her that… that I wanted you to choose me. I went to your apartment immediately and arrived just in time to see you accept Cain’s proposal.”

“Do you have a different answer today?” She leans in toward him, and he turns to face her, just inches away.

“No,” he murmurs. His eyes flicker down to her lips, then back up to meet her gaze. He holds it as he leans in slowly, his lids fluttering shut just as his soft lips find hers. Her eyes close, relief flooding through her that he’s listening, that he’s responding to her attempts to convince him of her sincerity. Their mouths move gently together and he brings a hand up to thread into her hair at the nape of her neck, holding her gently against him. She caresses his stubbled cheek with her free hand, and after a moment he pulls away, resting his forehead against hers. They share air, enclosed in a bubble of their own making, and she moves in to close the distance between them again. His breath washes warm against her cheek as he exhales unsteadily and they linger in the moment, exploring. His tongue traces the seam of her lips and she opens to him, pressing closer with a low moan. His free hand finds her hip, tugging her off her stool and toward him. Her fingers tighten against his shoulder blade and he groans against her, cut short by a ringing from her phone. Both of their eyes fly open and their gazes meet ruefully as her alert is echoed by an alert from his own phone.

******************

They part reluctantly, each picking up their own device and moving apart.

Chloe's voice follows Lucifer faintly as he moves carefully upstairs to his temporary quarters, the itching in his back and shoulders suddenly unbearable. His mind whirls, still hardly able to believe what just happened. Their kiss had ignited a flame in his chest that continues to smolder once he's back in his room. He stops at the door frame to scratch his back against it without relief, and resigns himself to what he needs to do.

He closes the door, settles on the edge of the bed and shrugs out of his shirt as he rolls his shoulders, unfurling his denuded wings. He grimaces as the itching intensifies, and he curves his left wing around him, bringing it into easy reach of his fingers and starts the intricate task of caring for his newly growing feathers.

He lets his mind wander over the events of the past few weeks as his fingers perform the familiar task of crumbling the shells from the rachis of the new feathers, gently rolling the shafts between them to loosen the casing and free the fledgling vanes.

He considers Chloe's behavior since her return, analyzing it through not only his own perception, but also Chloe's explanations of her own thought process. As much as his own mind screams at him that it isn't possible, he comes to the same conclusion now as he did downstairs... What they have is real. She loves him. She- somehow - truly wants him to stay with her. The heat in his chest blooms before he squashes it. _For now._

_So, I can do that. I've already promised to stay until she sends me away. There's no reason I can't humor her in this. I care for her enough to indulge her happiness, so while she wants me, I can allow myself to be hers, allow myself to... accept what she's choosing to offer for the time being._

The task is tedious and time consuming, so he hasn't made much progress when Chloe raps on his door. He looks up as it opens, and finds her standing in the doorway with wide eyes, her hand clapped over her mouth.

*******************

"Hey Dan, what's up?" Chloe tries to steady her breathing and ignore the pounding of her heart as she answers the call, eyes locked on Lucifer's retreating back.

"Hey Chlo'. I've got a problem for tomorrow. I might not be able to get Trixie because I've got a stake out for this case I'm working if we don't get the guy tonight."

"Oh." She pauses for a moment to see if he has more information to impart, but he doesn't continue. "Okay, not a problem. Do you still want to have her this weekend, or postpone til next week?"

"Yeah, I should be able to make the pickup Saturday morning if the stake out goes well."

"Do you want me to tell Trix, or do you want to?"

"I'll let her know this afternoon. Thanks Chloe, I'll keep her til Tuesday if that's okay?"

"Sure, that works," she nods, even though Dan can't see it. "I might go back to work on Monday, so that'll give me a chance to catch up at the office before she comes home."

"Does that mean Lucifer's back where he belongs?" Dan growls bitterly. "I'm still not thrilled about him staying with you guys."

"I'm still not interested in your opinion on the matter, Dan. Lucifer is welcome here any time. Trixie loves him." _And so do I._ She smiles to herself.

"Fine, Chloe, but one day you're going to have to face the fact that he is not one of the good guys." he hisses, and disconnects the call before she can respond.

She closes her eyes and takes a steadying breath, holding her phone tightly in her hands. Then she dials the precinct to arrange her return to work on Monday, taking well-wishes to pass along for Lucifer. With that call complete, she follows Lucifer upstairs. She taps on the door, waiting a moment before opening it to find her partner seated on the bed, with a trash can in front of him, surrounded by ridiculously fluffy, down-covered wings. He looks utterly adorable, and she claps her hand over her mouth to hide her goofy smile as he lifts his gaze from whatever he's doing to greet her. She manages to swallow the squeal that threatens to spill from her lips and clears her throat.

"Um, whatcha doing?"

"Preening," he replies primly, narrowing his eyes as though he knows the response she's repressing. "The new shafts need their sheaths removed, and they itch unbearably until it's done."

"Is it something I can help you with? It looks like some of these will be kind of hard for you to do yourself..." He's already contorted uncomfortably, and he's only working on the feathers on the most easily reachable parts of the wing. "Is this something that you have to do often?"

"Not often, no. I've never lost all my feathers at once before. Usually it's a few at most, if I've been in a fight and lost some."

"So... Would you like some help?" He hesitates, and she starts to backtrack, "I mean, if it's something that humans shouldn't -"

"No, it's not that," he reassures her. "Wings are very sensitive, but I can teach you what to do, if you want to help."

He shows her the movements, wrapping his long fingers around hers and guiding them in the gentle rolling motion required to loosen the casings and free the vanes trapped within. Once she has the trick of it, she moves to kneel behind him on the bed, starting with the tiny scapular feathers where the wing meets his body. She notices that the wing trembles slightly under her hand, his breathing quavering as well.

"Are you sure this is okay?"

"It's fine, Detective," his voice is strained, and he keeps his eyes focused on the feathers in front of him. She stops working, eyebrows raised until he turns to look at her. "As I said, our wings are simply very sensitive. Typically, preening is something that only occurs between those siblings that hold deepest trust and regard toward one another."

"Oh," she tucks her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying it. "Do you want me to stop? Maybe Amenadiel -?"

"No, I meant what I said, Detective. I trust you with my wings.” _He trusts her. That_ is the true miracle. “It's only that no one but me has touched my wings since before my Fall. Well, except Mazikeen, of course, but she was cutting them off at the time, so I’m not entirely sure that counts…”

Chloe feels the warmth of the wing under her fingertips, the sensitivity of the feather shaft currently being rolled between her fingerpads, and tries to imagine cutting off this beautiful, living piece of her partner. She assesses the thickness of the base where the wing sprouts from his shoulder blade and tries _not_ to imagine Lucifer fighting to hold still as they’re severed from his body. Tries not to imagine the _massive_ amount of blood loss involved. She tries not to recall the dim memories of his strangled screams as he cradled her in the safety of his wings as they absorbed the hail of bullets speeding at them, and how much worse those screams would sound when those same appendages were being torn away. Then she remembers that he cut them off again by himself… many times, according to Linda. Her hands start to shake, and he feels it.

“Detective? Are you all right?” he turns again to look at her, his mahogany eyes concerned. “If my wings are too much, if you’re feeling oddly-“

“I’m fine, Lucifer, I told you before- your wings are pretty, but beyond that they don’t affect me. I was just… trying not to imagine Maze cutting them off. Or _you_ cutting them off yourself.”

“Ah.” He focuses back on his wing. “Yes, a less than pleasant experience all around.”

 _Less than pleasant._ Well, considering all the horrible things Lucifer has been through, she supposes it’s probably an accurate description. Her gut twists again as she gently continues to free the vanes from their keratin shells, the slight crackling noise of the casings disintegrating the only sound in the room aside from their breathing. Finally, she tries to shake herself out of her torturous speculations.

“So… you’re strangely adorable with these fluffy wings, you know.”

“The devil is _never_ adorable, Detective,” he scoffs, but she can hear the smile in his voice. He knows what she’s doing.

“And yet, here you are, all fluffy and… cute.”

 _“Cute?”_ he echoes playfully, “How dare you?”

“Most definitely _cute_ ,” she retorts, threading her fingers between the spiny shafts of his new feathers. He stiffens, sucking in a sudden breath, and she immediately apologizes. “I’m so sorry, did that hurt?”

“No,” he chokes, then clears his throat and continues. “No Detective, it didn’t hurt, you merely caught me by surprise.”

“What -?” she trails off, not entirely sure what she’s asking.

“Truly, it’s nothing of importance,” he brushes off her concern. “Your touch, it’s… nice.”

“Oh,” she breathes, a small smile on her lips. She keeps her eyes on her hands, which stay busy with her partner’s feathers. The afternoon passes in this manner, shifting between discussion, playful banter, and occasional innuendo (discussion about shafts was just too, well, _hard_ for Lucifer to resist entirely). Chloe finishes with the last feather about half an hour before Trixie is due to arrive home. She sits close behind him, running her hands over his newly-freed feathers.

“Why are they so soft?” she asks curiously. “Bird feathers aren’t this soft.”

“I’m not a bird,” he points out patiently, “and they’re not always soft.”

“Really?” she asks curiously, and watches as he flexes his right wing into an aggressive-looking stance. The primary feathers now resemble blades, almost like Maze’s curved blades that she favors. She reaches out to feel them, but he pulls the wing away.

“Careful, Detective, they’re deadly sharp this way. Our wings aren’t just for looks, they’re weapons as well.”

“And shields.”

“In great need, they can be, yes.”

She leans forward and presses her lips to the back of his neck. “Thank you, Lucifer, for shielding me when I needed it.”

“Again, and again,” he reminds her. He folds his wings away and turns to face her, folding her into an embrace. “Thank you for the help with my wings, they’re much more comfortable now.”

“Anytime.” She rests her head against his bare shoulder, closing her eyes and basking in the heat of him. They pull apart after a long moment and she sighs. “I should go pick up Trixie. Do you want to come with?”

“I’ve got a message to call Patrick, I should check in with him. Go spend some time with your offspring, Detective. I’ll start dinner while you’re out, shall I?”

“Deal,” she grins. “need me to pick anything up?”


	20. Well, I'll be damned.

While Chloe is waiting in the pickup line to get Trixie from school, she checks her messages and finds confirmations from everyone in the Tribe for a girls’ night tomorrow, along with an agreement to include Eve. She asks Ella to extend the invitation, since she already has Eve’s number in her phone.

Trixie slips into the backseat with a concerned glance at the empty passenger seat. “Where’s Lucifer?”

"He’s at home. He offered to start dinner while I came to get you. He said we should stop and get dessert on the way home, so what should we get?”

“Are you _really_ asking me?” her daughter’s grin is reflected at her in the rearview mirror.

“You never know, one day you _might_ surprise me and say something other than chocolate cake… but I’m guessing today is not that day.”

“Definitely _not_ today, Mommy!” Just then, Trixie’s phone rings, and she answers with a chipper “Hi Daddy! We’re getting chocolate cake for dinner!”

“For _after_ dinner,” Chloe clarifies patiently, laughing at her daughter’s enthusiasm for her favorite pastry.

“Yeah! Lucifer’s gonna make dinner, and he’s a _real_ good cook, and tomorrow when you come get me, maybe- Oh. Okay… Yeah, I know, you have to. I’ll still see you this weekend though? Okay. Nah, it’s fine. Lucifer will probably color with me, or maybe we can do a game night. It’ll be fun! Okay Daddy. I love you. Be safe!” Her daughter frowns at her phone for a moment, and Chloe feels a stab of guilt that both her parents are in such a dangerous profession that she automatically adds “Be safe!” to the end of her phone calls along with obligatory “I love you!”

They stop off at Trixie’s favorite bakery, then another stop at a creamery for some ice cream before heading home. They walk in the door to be met with the enticing scent of Chloe’s favorite Hawaiian bread grilled sandwiches. A freshly-showered Lucifer has a savory grilled chicken salad on the table on the table ready for them, and is pulling the last of the sandwiches off the griddle as they enter with dessert.

“Excellent timing, Detective,” Lucifer announces cheerfully. “Offspring, welcome home.”

Chloe feels a burst of warmth at his choice of words. She knows that he likely only means it literally, welcoming Trixie back to her home, but it almost sounds as though he considers her apartment as good as his home. She allows herself a smile.

“You’re awfully chipper today.”

“What reason have I not to be merry?” He asks with a soft laugh. “My strength is returning, my wings are nearly back to normal, and I barely even needed a nap today! I’ll be out of your proverbial hair in no time, ladies.”

“Oh!” Chloe blurts, “That reminds me- our little plan for Maze and Eve to meet up at girls’ night? Everybody else is in for a night out, but Dan has a stakeout tomorrow and can’t take Trixie until Saturday, so I’m out.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Detective, if anyone deserves a night out, it’s you. If the Urchin needs a caretaker, I’m happy to-“

“You’ll be my sitter, Lucifer, won’t you?” Trixie latches onto his apron-clad waist and gazes up at him imploringly. “We can have a game night! Or movie night! Or coloring!”

“Ah…” his hands have lifted placatingly, and he’s standing frozen. “I was… rather planning to offer to provide a caretaker for you. I’m hardly qualified-“

“Pleeeeeease??” Trixie wheedles, clinging tightly to him. “We haven’t had a game night in _foreverrrr.”_

His mahogany gaze meets Trixie’s hopeful chocolate one, and he feels a strange twisting in his chest. He _does_ owe the child a game night, she had asked him for one before they left for Rome, and he had agreed with the Detective’s permission. He’ll need to make sure his ledger is squared before the Detective sends him away, and this seems like the perfect opportunity to fulfill his promise.

“Very well, Spawn, if your mother agrees, I will provide a game night for you tomorrow while she enjoys her night out with her friends.” He pats her on the head carefully, subtly trying to step away as Chloe stifles a smile. “But only if you let go of me this instant and go wash your hands for dinner.”

Trixie releases him and bolts to the sink to wash with a wide grin lighting her face. Lucifer removes the apron and hangs it gingerly back on its hook as he transports the platter of sandwiches to the dinner table, then makes another trip for plates and salad bowls.

Neither Chloe nor Lucifer had stopped for lunch today, and Lucifer is ravenously hungry. A fierce battle ensues for the last sandwich, which Lucifer reluctantly concedes… until Chloe relents and laughingly splits it with him, Trixie giggling madly all the while.

When dinner is over, Chloe sends Trixie off to finish her homework, and moves to dry the dishes, since Lucifer is already washing them.

“You don’t have to stay with her tomorrow,” Chloe offers quietly, “I can get a sitter.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Detective,” he murmurs. “I’ve already given your Spawn my promise of my company. I promised her a game night ages ago with your permission, and I would like to fulfill that promise to her while I can. If you allow it, I will stay with Beatrice for your girls’ evening out.”

“What do you mean, ‘while you can’?” Chloe furrows her brow.

“Merely that I always keep my promises, Detective. This presents a perfect opportunity to do so.” They work quietly for a moment before Chloe realizes what it’s about.

“Are you still planning to leave?”

“Of course not!” he protests earnestly, holding out the last piece of silverware for her to dry. “I’m only making sure my ledgers will be balanced when you inevitably send me away.”

“Lucifer,” she begins, grabbing the utensil and yanking it out of his hand. His eyes widen and he hisses, pulling his hand back and tucking it against his chest as Chloe stares in horror at the razor-sharp knife she’s now holding. “Oh my- let me see! How bad is it?”

She surges forward and he lets her take his hand without resisting. He’s staring down at his curled palm in stunned silence. Chloe takes his hand and reaches for a clean towel to press against the—nonexistent wound? She flips his hand over, though she was _sure_ he’d been gripping the blade when she pulled it from his hand. There’s nothing- no cut, no blood, not even a scratch.

“Lucifer, I -?” she trails off, not even sure what she was going to say. He gently takes the knife from her hand, and before she can stop him he ruthlessly slashes it across his palm. A smile slowly blooms across his face, lighting his eyes in wonder.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” He breathes, still staring at his unmarred palm. “Detective, it appears that Arael’s little reset didn’t _only_ purge the poison – I’ve got my invulnerability back!”

She traces her fingers across the path the knife had taken, the soft skin whole and healthy. She’s seen it before- when he walked out of the inferno of the blazing cabin without so much as a scratch. But… he’s been injured so many times in her presence that her brain is still finding it difficult to process this further proof of his _otherness_ right in front of her eyes.

“Lucifer, that’s great!” She releases his hand and throws her arms around his neck in relief. _He’s safe. Even around me, he’s safe now… just in case some other psycho tries to come after him._

He stiffens for a moment with his hands held helplessly out to his sides before his arms gently wrap around her back and he returns her embrace with a chuff of laughter. “It’s certainly an unexpected development, though not an unwelcome one.”

Trixie pokes her head over the bar, and grins when she sees their embrace. “What’s great?”

Chloe answers quickly, “Lucifer’s feeling a lot better, sweetie. Great, in fact.”

“Yay!” she squeals, bolting around the bar to join in the celebratory hug and Lucifer laughs again.

“Yes, Urchin, ‘yay’, indeed.” He smiles down at her. “Is your homework done yet?”

She confirms that it is, and her mother sends her off to choose a movie to watch before bed.

"Will you watch with us?" she looks up at him hopefully, just as his phone rings.

"That'll be Eve," he says with a sigh. "Maze told me she's willing to try her as a roommate, so I should speak with her and plant the idea. It's going to be a long conversation. Also, since I'm likely to be subjected to singing beasts tomorrow, I'll take my respite this evening."

"Good night, Detective," he murmurs warmly as he pulls his phone from his pocket and gently backs out of their embrace, turning away to climb the staircase toward his room. She watches him go, satisfied to see no indication of weakness or unsteadiness in his movements. He answers the phone, his soft voice drifting back to her until she can only make out the faintest rumble of conversational cadence. She waits until he's out of sight before she joins Trixie in the living room to watch their movie.

********************

Lucifer rolls his eyes for at least the tenth time during this conversation, glad that it's not a video call. "Eve, I really must insist. I am in no condition or mood for hosting a houseguest at the moment, not even one as charming as you, dear. Mazikeen will be more than willing to introduce you around and show you a wonderful time while you're settling in."

"I thought you were feeling better?" Eve asks, concerned. "You said you thought you'd be back at Lux by now?"

"Yes, my strength has been a bit slower in returning than Raphael had initially estimated," he explains, "but today has been a good day for milestones, and I do hope to be back home this weekend, if the Detective and her Offspring will allow me to leave."

" _Allow_ you?" she parrots incredulously.

"They've been rather concerned about me throughout this entire ordeal, so I'm humouring them a bit by staying with them until they're fully convinced that I truly am recovered." He places the phone on speaker and starts to strip, pulling his silk pajama bottoms from the drawer. "It's only a few extra days, and I'll already be staying with the Spawn tomorrow evening while you ladies are out enjoying yourselves, anyway."

"You're going to be staying with Chloe's daughter."

"I did tell you at lunch, the child has excellent taste," he teases lightly.

"I never thought I'd see the day where you would willingly spend time with a child." Eve sounds truly perplexed, as though she's suddenly speaking to a stranger.

"I did mention that I've changed quite a lot since you knew me, darling," he reminds her gently. "But to be fair, the Detective's offspring barely counts as a child. She's a clever little minx. And... she's had a difficult time of it these past few years, which is partially my fault, so if I can make it up to her even a little I would like to do so."

The silence on the other end of the line stretches as he finishes changing, and he sits on the edge of his bed, waiting for her to speak.

"Luce... When can I see you again?" she finally ventures quietly. "I've been back almost two weeks, and I've only gotten to see you once."

"I know, love, and I'm sorry your time here so far hasn't been what you expected." He casts for something to say that isn't a lie, but also won't hurt her feelings. "The past couple of weeks haven't been a picnic for me, either. Once I'm feeling up to it, I'm sure I can manage a night out on the town with you before I leave."

"You keep saying you're leaving?" he hears glass clinking in the background, as though she's pouring herself a drink. "Where are you going? When are you leaving?"

"I'm not leaving yet," he assures her. "I don't know exactly when, but I'll be making a trip back to Hell, probably soon."

"Oh," a swallow, followed by a slight cough. "How long will you be gone?"

"Quite a long time, I would think. Probably a human lifetime or so." Considering that the Offspring is quite young, and Lucifer had promised that Chloe wouldn't need to worry that he would return within either of their lifetimes. "But we needn't discuss that right now, darling. You have a night out to prepare for, and I find I'm quite ready for some sleep, despite the early hour. I'm a bit knackered after my first full day up and about. Go out and have some fun, and enjoy your time with the ladies tomorrow. We'll talk again soon, all right?"

“Luce?” she pulls in a deep breath, “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem… off. Is it the Detective?”

“No, Eve,” he closes his eyes and rubs the bridge of his nose. “I am not okay. But it’s not the Detective’s fault. None of this is her fault, though she played a role in how it came about. I’m tired, Eve, can we pick this up another time?”

“Sure,” she agrees readily. “Take care, Luce. Good night.”

He plugs his phone into the charger beside the bed and leans back against the headboard, suddenly even more exhausted. He listens to the child giggling at the movie she and her mother are watching downstairs and a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. He has his weekly appointment with Linda tomorrow, and he uses his free time now to ponder his “assignment” for the week.

_“I’d like you to think about your decision to go back to Hell, and the reasons behind it. I’d also like you think about the reasons you might have to want to stay.”_

Does he _want_ to go back to Hell? Of course not. If he never sees Hell again he could remain perfectly content- ecstatic, in fact. Especially if what his Father told Chloe is true and he truly no longer needs to be there. Perhaps… maybe he could suggest an alternative to Chloe. She seems sincere when she says she doesn’t _want_ him to go to Hell, maybe she would accept a substitute destination- South America, or Australia… maybe even Europe. The idea of Italy leaves a bad taste in his mouth with his recent Roman experience, but perhaps France or Spain… or Greece. He could ask to amend his promise… would that count as breaking his word? Or would it merely be a loophole? He was very clear in the video that his intended destination was Hell. He supposes it couldn’t hurt to ask. If she declines, well then, nothing changes. But it would be worth proposing.

His reasons to stay- well, in the shadow of his promise they’re largely irrelevant. He can’t disregard a promise merely because he has reasons to want to. He’s never had friends before, not like he’s had here in Los Angeles. Miss Lopez knows the truth of him now, and the good Doctor. He’ll miss both of them, but perhaps if the Detective allows him to modify his promise, he can bring them to visit him occasionally? He won’t be able to see Beatrice again, of course- she’s part of the promise. But at least he’ll be able to have their promised game night tomorrow evening and gently prepare her for his eventual departure. One day soon the Detective will release him from his promise to stay, and he will go.

Why did she extract that promise, to stay? Guilt, surely. Or simply stubbornness, that she didn’t want to let the priest win? It would certainly rub her the wrong way to feel as though someone else would be paying for her mistake.

Which brings him to his next point to ponder, why on Earth would the Detective tell him she loves him? On the beach last year- when he had told her exactly how unworthy he was of her- she had kissed him. Then her poisoning, and he’d used Candy to put space between them. They’d grown closer again until Cain had appeared, and then she’d chosen him- kissed him- again on that balcony, despite how hard he’d tried to make her believe the truth of him. Did she think she loved him then? Whatever she thought, it was surely wiped from her mind once she saw his face and she ran to Rome, like the sensible person that she is. And then the priest…

But- she’d changed her mind, hadn’t she? Had gone well above and beyond any requirements of guilt to care for him while he was sick, to the point of literally not leaving his side. Keeping far closer than the minimum requirements for his health and well-being, even going so far as sleeping in the same bed to help keep him comfortable. He remembers the feel of her fingers in his feathers, the warmth of her lips against his. He’d certainly needed that cold shower to get himself back under control after she’d gone to pick up the Urchin from school.

_She is selfless. Truly good. This is something she would do for anyone._

And now? She tells him she loves him? That she wants him to choose to have her in his life? What kind of guilt would inspire that? The devil is an expert in guilt, but he’s coming up empty. His eyelids droop as his head lolls back against the headboard. Perhaps the good Doctor will have an idea when he goes for his session tomorrow afternoon. He briefly considers trying to lay down, but sleep overtakes him before thought can translate into motion.

Chloe finds him there two hours later, snoring lightly.

****************************

Chloe curls on the couch with her daughter, letting the upbeat music wash around her as her mind runs in the background. She lets her thoughts wander back over the discoveries of the day and warmth spreads in her chest.

Lucifer wants her to choose him. She wants him to choose her. He _kissed_ her. He trusts her enough to allow her near his wings. He’s so much stronger now, and he’s not weakened when she’s near him anymore. She wonders at this new development, what Raphael will make of it. She recalls what God had told her about Lucifer’s vulnerability around her…

 _“That’s not_ My _doing, by the way, dear, that’s all on Lucifer, though I’m sure he doesn’t realize he’s doing it.”_

She wonders what that meant, now that she doesn’t have anyone to ask. Lucifer somehow made _himself_ vulnerable? Is that what actualization does? Why would that happen? What kind of subconscious desires could possibly result in the ability for an immortal being to be wounded?

 _Was he suicidal?_ He had apparently died for her twice – once by his own hand, so… it’s a possibility. That was certainly worth addressing in the future. Was there another reason he would choose to become vulnerable around her, even unconsciously? Is his newfound invulnerability just a result of his divinity “rebooting”, or has something fundamental changed in his subconscious regarding his proximity to her? She shakes her head, unable to place herself that deeply in Lucifer’s thoughts.

Trixie turns to her with a grin, making a comment about the movie and she laughs, checking out of her thoughts and back into quality time with her daughter until she tucks her into bed. Trixie has forgiven her enough now to allow her to read her a bedtime story and do a proper tucking-in routine. Chloe stands in the doorway watching her daughter for a moment before she turns and climbs the stairs to her bedroom. She doesn’t think twice about going to Lucifer’s room after showering and changing into her pajamas, and she finds him slumped against the headboard, sound asleep in his silk pajama pants and a loose robe.

“Lucifer,” she sits on the mattress next to him and gently touches his cheek. His eyes flicker and she watches the glimmer of warm brown eyes appear as his lids part. “You should lay down, or you’re going to wake up terribly sore from that position.”

“I’ve told you, Detective, variety in positioning is important.” He mumbles, but he stands up to pull the blankets back and smooths his sheets before he lays back down, looking up at her quizzically. “You’ve something on your mind.”

“I know you hate being asked, but… are you okay?”

“I’m only a bit tired, darling. Overall, much better than I was this morning. My wings no longer itch, for one thing.” He wriggles his shoulders against the sheets, grinning happily. “And you no longer make me exsanguinate, so… quite a good day, really!”

“Something occurred to me about that earlier, while Trix and I were watching the movie.” She lays down on her right side, facing him rather than towering over him. “Your dad said that my effect on you wasn’t his doing, and that you probably didn’t even know you were doing it… so I think it must have been some kind of actualization at work.”

Lucifer’s brows draw in confusion. “You think I… made _myself_ vulnerable around you? Why in Dad’s name would I do that?”

“I have no idea. But it made me worry for you, that you might have been… suicidal?"

“No, Detective. Just… no.” To her relief, he laughs. “Would I die for you? Of course. ‘Been there, done that’ as the saying goes. But Detective, I’m banned from Heaven. If I die- _when_ I die- I go back to Hell, and without my body, my wings- I’m stuck there. I wouldn’t be King of Hell, merely another miserable inmate. I have no desire to die permanently, to go back to my Loop… at least not without a worthy cause.”

“And _I’m_ considered a worthy cause?”

“Of course you are, Detective!” he scoffs. “I’ve told you, you are _truly_ good.”

“Then I’m so glad you’ve got your invulnerability back, because I don’t think I could stand it if something else happened to you because of me.”

His left hand reaches out and slides between the pillow and her cheek, cupping her face. “None of this has been your fault.”

His body temperature has finally returned to normal and she closes her eyes, savoring the reassuring warmth of his palm against her cheek. She feels him shift his weight across from her, and when she opens her eyes she finds him laying on his left side mirroring her, a few inches away. She slides her right hand between his pillow and cheek and tilts her forehead to lean against his, letting her eyes slide closed again.

“Good night, Lucifer.”

“Sleep well, Detective.”


	21. Broken Mirror

Friday dawns rainy and chill, and Chloe nestles into the familiar heat beside her before she’s fully awake. She cracks an eye open and glances toward the window- still dark. Plenty of time to go back to sleep before the alarm goes off. She grimaces as the bullet scar at her shoulder twinges sharply from the change in the weather, and she tucks her head under Lucifer’s chin. He murmurs sleepily as his arm wraps around her, folding her into his welcoming warmth. She closes her eyes and contentedly breathes in his scent, crisp and clean with a hint of his cologne. His even breaths gently ruffle her hair and the steadiness of his heartbeat under her cheek lulls her back to sleep.

_She’s back in the white space again, only this time she’s not afraid. She knows she’s safe in bed, wrapped in Lucifer’s arms. It welcomes her like an old friend, and she feels cozy and relaxed. The light laps around her, enveloping her body in a soothing thrumming like she’s floating in a warm bath. She drifts, at peace, as the light eddies and sparkles around her._

When she opens her eyes again the greenish, watery light of a stormy morning dimly illuminates the room. The bed next to her is cold and she pulls the blankets closer around her for a moment as her brain claws its way to wakefulness. A low growl of thunder rumbles, and she briefly considers just staying in bed for the day and enjoying the rain from the comfort of a blanket nest. Duty wins out (as always), and she pries herself from the warm sheets with a quiet groan. As she descends the stairs she hears voices from her kitchen, and finds her daughter and the devil peaceably making breakfast together.

“Yes, that’s very good, Urchin, keep moving them around so nothing sticks and burns. There, on the left, 10 o’clock- yes perfect. Now they’ve thickened enough that we can add the cheese without scorching it before they’re done. A bit less. A bit less _again_ … now scatter it evenly… yes, well done. Now, kindly step aside and I’ll move the pan from the heat, you’re still more susceptible to burns than I am, even when I was vulnerable to having your mother nearby- oh, good morning Detective!”

The last words are nearly sung with a wide grin as he spots her standing disheveled next to the bar, watching them work. He places a steaming mug of coffee in front of her, and the mouthwatering aroma of perfection wafts up to her, doing more to wake her than a cold shower could. She brings it to her lips, wrapping her hands around the source of warmth and blessed caffeine and releases a deep sigh as the flavor bursts against her tongue.

“Thank you,” she breathes gratefully as she settles onto one of the stools, hunching over her mug as the scented steam bathes her face.

“Of course, Detective,” he responds cheerfully, “I know the rain often puts a bit of a damper on your mornings, so Beatrice and I thought we’d get a wriggle on without waking you.”

She shakes her head with a small smile, taking another small sip of her scalding beverage. The tiny details he notices without prompting are astonishing, especially considering the larger, _important_ things that he is often completely, genuinely oblivious to. How a being that can be so innately thoughtful and perceptive can also be so very dense about emotions in general is completely beyond her understanding. It’s one of the things that drove her absolutely crazy before she believed he was anything other than human. She had written it off as being a product of an uncaring family, and being utterly self-centered. _I wasn’t entirely wrong,_ she muses to herself, watching her partner patiently instruct her daughter through breakfast preparation. _He_ is _the product of an uncaring family, and he can_ certainly _be self-centered._ But he truly makes much _more_ sense now that she knows he’s really not human. Why wouldn’t he be self-centered? No one else has bothered to consider his needs- since pretty much the beginning of time. And yet, here he is, willingly spending time coaching her daughter through making a simple breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast. Even Dan hadn’t been very good with things like that, since Trixie – like any child- tends to get distracted easily. Lucifer, however, is always easily distracted himself and so seems to be quite well-equipped to keep her on track.

He watches her closely as she dishes a serving of eggs and a couple slices of buttered toast onto a plate and carefully walks it over to her mother, setting it proudly in front of her.

“I made it _all_ myself!” she declares with a proud grin, which Lucifer echoes behind her. “Lucifer showed me how!”

“It smells amazing, baby, did you thank him for showing you?” Chloe picks up her fork and digs into her cheesy scrambled eggs, finding them seasoned to perfection and utterly delicious.

“She did indeed, Detective,” Lucifer chimes in from the sink. “Your Offspring is quite good with manners. She must get that from you, it certainly can’t come from Daniel.”

Trixie giggles at his remark, then goes back for her own plate and brings it to the bar to sit with her mother.

“Aren’t you going to eat with us, Lucifer? Why are you working on the dishes now?”

He looks up from the sink with a slightly guilty expression on his face. “I, ah, thought you ladies might like some family time over breakfast, and I’m afraid I’ve been eating quite a lot of your groceries of late. I thought I might visit the penthouse today, see how I get on without a chaperone. I’ve got an appointment with Linda early this afternoon, then I could come back here in plenty of time to care for your Offspring for your girls’ night.”

“Oh,” Chloe tries not to let her disappointment bleed into her voice. “Do you- Are you sure you don’t want some company? I mean- if the mess is still there from… from before the axe incident- I’m more than happy to help clean it- you really shouldn’t touch any of that glass or whatever’s left from the-“

“No, Detective, it’s quite all right. I cleaned up the worst of it before I followed you that night, and I’m certain that my cleaning service has been there since I’ve been gone.” He smiles at her to take any sting from his words. “And if they haven’t, I certainly know to be careful with it now.”

“Trix, have you got your school things ready? The bus will be here soon.” Chloe changes the subject abruptly, and Lucifer gratefully turns back to finish the dishes. Trixie takes her plate back to the sink and gives Lucifer a wide smile.

“Thanks again for showing me how to cook, Lucifer, that was _fun_.”

“Well, once I talked you out of adding cocoa powder to the eggs, you really did quite well, Spawn.”

“Thank you again for breakfast, Trixie, it was delicious, and very thoughtful.” Chloe finishes her own plate, shuddering to herself at how _that_ experiment would have come out. “Now c’mon, get your shoes on while I go brush my hair and we’ll walk down to the bus stop.”

She dashes upstairs, grabs a change of clothes from her bedroom and throws her hair into a messy bun after she brushes her teeth, then strips her tank top off in front of the mirror. She wriggles into her bra, then stops dead, looking closely at her reflection. Her hand comes up absently, brushing the smooth skin where before there had been a puckered scar from the bullet she took during the Delilah case, when she first met Lucifer 3 years ago. Her fingerpads brush the flawless skin over her unbroken collarbone, and she realizes that it doesn’t _ache_ the way it has every time stormy weather has blown in since the injury. Quickly, she turns her back to the mirror, looking over her shoulder and reaching her right hand over to feel for the exit wound, and- nothing. No scar, no twinge, no stiffness.

Her breath quickens, becoming a little ragged as she tries to figure out what’s happening. _Is this what God meant by healing?_ She quickly checks her right knee- the scar from her bike accident when she was 12- including the tiny piece of gravel that had remained embedded under the skin- is gone too. She looks at the skin over her stomach- nope, the stretch-marks from Trixie are still there. _Really?_ She thinks wryly. _I get to keep the stretch-marks?_

Her knees suddenly feel a little weak, and she slumps back against the bathroom door, the cool wall against the now-slightly-clammy skin of her back serving as a ground for her whirling mind.

“Detective?” Lucifer’s voice filters up the stairs. How long has she been sitting here? “Are you all right? The Urchin says her bus should be by soon?”

“Yeah,” she croaks, and clears her throat, repeating, “Yeah, I’m good. I’m, uh- could you walk her down there, please? I need to, uhm..”

“Are you certain you’re all right?” His voice is directly on the other side of the door now, concerned.

“I’m fine, Lucifer,” she swallows. “I just, um… new development. I’m a little freaked out, but I’m good. Please take Trix to the bus?”

“I’ll be right back, darling.” He murmurs to her, and she feels him gently pat the door before his footsteps fade back downstairs.

Ten minutes later she still hasn’t moved, and he’s back at the door to her bathroom.

“Detective?”

“Still good.” She responds quietly, “Just trying to think.”

“Would you rather I leave you alone?”

“No, I… think alone might be bad.”

“All right.” She hears a rustling followed by a slight shake of the door, as though he’s just slid down it to sit on the other side. She swears she can feel his heat through door, and she relaxes back against it. “Would you like to talk about it?”

“I uh, I’m just not sure about this whole actualization thing?”

“Well, I won’t deny it can be… disconcerting.” His voice is low, calming. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine, just unnerved.” She leans forward, resting her forehead against her knees with a groan. “I mean, it’s not even a big deal- it’ll be really nice to _not_ have that aching every time it gets damp and chilly, you know?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Detective.”

She stands and slowly opens the door, finding Lucifer sitting exactly how she’d pictured him, knees against his chest as hers had been. He looks up at her and his eyebrows lift in surprise.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the exquisite view, Detective… but are you… quite sure you’re all right?”

“No, it- it doesn’t matter.” Her face flushes as she realizes she's just in her bra and pajama shorts, but she holds out a hand to him, helping him to his feet. “Lucifer, _look.”_

“I assure you, darling, I am happy to,” he purrs, but there's no heat behind it, and his eyes don’t leave her pallid face.

“Lucifer, _look_ ,” she repeats, placing his fingers on the skin where her bullet wound had been. She watches his brows contract as his fingers skate across the skin there, then move to the point of her shoulder, gently turning her to see her back. His palm glides over her shoulder where the exit wound had been, and suddenly her mind flashes back to the other time his broad hands had wandered over her bare back, when that scar had been fresh and he’d been looking for… wing scars?

“It just… feels so strange, having my body respond to something I wasn’t even aware of.” His hand leaves her back and she turns to face him again. He scoops her sweater from the floor and offers it to her. Her eyes don’t leave his, and she steps closer. “Is… that’s what it’s like for you, isn’t it? With your face. You don’t have any say in its existence, or how you look. Do you even get to control when it manifests?”

“Most of the time,” he admits quietly, the pain in his eyes holding her gaze. “Throughout the millennia, I’ve gained a good bit of control over it… but there are times when it… leaks. I know my eyes often flash red when I lose my temper. You saw that with the Jolson girl, didn’t you? That’s when you shot me. When you really saw me… after Cain, I had no idea my face had manifested until you were so terrified of me. I didn’t even know it had returned.”

She blinks and tears spill as she closes the distance between them with a lunge, throwing her arms around his neck and desperately holding him to her.

***************************

He's intensely aware of her bare skin pressed against the thin fabric of his shirt, but he manages to wrap her sweater over her back before closing his arms around her. She buries her face in his chest and he rubs her back soothingly through the sweater. His collar is damp from her tears before he realizes she's not just sobbing, she's saying something, over and over again.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry Lucifer," she hiccoughs against him.

"Detective," he hesitates, "I'm afraid I still don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about. What in Dad's name has upset you so? Losing your scars?"

"N-n-no," she stammers, holding him tightly. "Am-menadiel told me, in the h-hospital. And I knew it, in my h-heart. But-but now... This, this stupid little thing- my scars- it just clicked."

"All right," he agrees cautiously, as she drags in a harsh breath. "Thus far, Detective, you're the only one clicking."

"Nothing, it's nothing," she shakes her head against him.

"I'm fairly certain that 'nothing' would not have you shutting yourself in your powder room, then flinging yourself to sob onto your partner while apologizing incoherently, but I'm willing to be persuaded?"

She looses a watery chuckle into his shirt. "I don't care about the scars that I lost, Lucifer, but... But I'm really concerned about the ones you showed me after Cain." He stiffens and tries to pull away, but she grips him tightly, refusing to let go. "Not the way you're thinking, Lucifer, not because I'm scared of you- but because... That's how you see _yourself_ , isn't it? That's why you've been so adamant that you're poison, that you're a monster. Because... your own brain has tricked your body into manifesting that way."

"Detective, my face-"

"No." she pulls back so she can look him in the eye, but doesn't let him step away. She lifts her right hand and caresses his stubbled cheek. " _This_ is your face, this is you. Your other face- it's that same broken mirror, Lucifer, it's that faulty filter that we all see ourselves through. I think... I think I understand that a little bit better now."

"I did look that way," he confesses, "for a long time, I did. When I was cast into Hell, I... burned. For a very long time, I burned. Hell warps time, so it's impossible to say how long it lasted, but it certainly felt like hundreds upon hundreds of years before I even started healing. As I was healing, I was fighting. Battling demons and other Hell denizens for survival, for supremacy. I fought my way to the throne wearing that other face, and won it wearing that face. I finally healed and regained this face some time afterward, but don't be misled, Detective. No matter what face I wear, I do not lie. I _am_ poison. It was in my very _name_ , darling, and I would very much like to spare you that... As much as I can.

"What do you mean, your name? Lucifer means 'bringer of light', doesn't it?" 

"Yes, it was my title, and why I chose it as my name after I was cast out. Truth is a light, and I much prefer light to darkness. Darkness is my brother's realm. My name... my name before... I once was Samael. Poison, venom of God. Since He threw me away, I felt it safe to assume I was no longer 'of God', so I decided to eschew being his poison entirely and dedicated myself to bringing light." His voice is a strange blending of bitterness and pride. 

"Lux," she murmurs against his chest, and he chuffs a sad little laugh. 

"Lux, indeed," he agrees. "You like my little joke, then?" 

"You don't see it, but I do, Lucifer. Your father told me, you claimed your free will. You chose _not_ to be your father's poison. You don't have to be anything you don't want to be anymore, you can choose to... to be happy. He wants you to. _I_ want you to."

"You want me to what?"

"To choose to be happy," she hesitates, her face still pressed into his chest. "I want you to choose to be happy _with me_... But if you can't, I understand. As long as you are happy..."

"Oh, Detective," he murmurs into her hair. "I chose you ages ago. There's never been another, Chloe, it's always been you." 


	22. Back to Lux

A fresh flood of tears erupts at his whispered declaration, guilt and relief pouring out with them in torrents. A deafening crash of thunder cracks outside, and she flinches against him just as the lights go out. The flicker of lightning through the window afterward is followed by a smaller growl of thunder, and Lucifer’s chuckle rumbles in his chest.

“I was going to suggest that you take a warm shower to help you calm down, Detective, but it appears the storm has a different idea.” She feels his lips press against her hair, and he continues slowly. “I… really should get to Lux, though I’m concerned about leaving you in this state, and in the dark, no less. Would you… like to come with me? You could make it a bit of a spa day – your time off work certainly hasn’t been very relaxing. I could get you a massage, you could reminisce in the hot tub…”

She registers his teasing tone and snickers before pulling away to give him an unconvincing glare. He tucks the sweater gently over her shoulders, lifts his hands from her back and takes a playful step back in surrender. “I’ll be safely otherwise occupied, Detective, so do as you like- but even you can’t deny that you deserve a little pampering after doing nothing but looking after your offspring and the devil for the better part of two weeks.”

“I’ll go with you.” She pulls her sweater off her shoulders and over her head, his dark eyes following her movements carefully, then lingering at her shoulder where her scar had been. “I think it would be awfully quiet around here if it were just me all day, and… being in my own head is probably the worst place for me right now.”

“I’m sorry this has happened to you, Detective,” his hand reaches toward her, gently tracing fingers over her collarbone again.

“I’m not,” she retorts, bringing her hand up to clasp his. “If anything, I’m actually grateful for it- if this stupid little healing incident has given me even the tiniest insight into _your_ situation, then I’m glad.”

“I’ll let you get dressed, Detective.” The greenish light filtering in from her stormy bedroom window glints off his teeth as he grins impishly at her. “I need to change my shirt anyway, and I may as well take most of my clothing back to Lux since we’re making the trip.”

She nods, her heart sinking at the thought of him going back to Lux alone… but she knows she can’t keep him from going back to his life. She doesn’t want to put him on a leash, only to walk by his side as much as possible. He exits the room, and she hurries to finish dressing. She decides last-minute to bring her swimsuit. She remembers the warmth from her dream, and that hot tub sounds absolutely perfect right about now.

******************************

Lucifer rides with her to Lux, but stops off in the bar to sort through business needs with Patrick. He sends her up to the penthouse with a promise to order a massage for her, and an open invitation to anything in the apartment.

The solitary ride up to the penthouse brings up bad memories of her last visit, and her breath catches as the chime announces her arrival on the penthouse level. She steps out when the doors open and rakes her eyes over the room. The table has been cleared of food, but the candles and chargers are still in their places, the single red rose long wilted, with brittle petals scattered like drops of dried blood over the glass tabletop. The fuzzy rugs and cushions are still in place where they had briefly been seated before their plans went to hell. Bile rises in her throat and she’s suddenly very glad that Lucifer isn’t here with her. She stacks the chargers and brushes the dried petals onto them, scooping up the vase with the dead rose inside and moving further into the penthouse to find the kitchen. She empties the vase into the trash can and sets the chargers on the marble countertop. She moves to the sink to rinse out the vase and finds their dishes from dinner, a slight fuzz of mold overtaking the crumbs left stuck to them. She tidies the mess and puts the dishes away, with some trial and error finding the proper places for everything. Once all the bitter reminders of their non-dinner are erased from the kitchen, she returns to the sitting room to put away the cushions and rugs. She surveys the room once more, catching sight of the bloody towel Lucifer had used to staunch the blood from the gash in his hand. She throws it unceremoniously in the trash and meticulously wipes down the bartop, removing all possible traces of blood and poison.

She feels a little better with all the evidence of her treachery cleared away, and decides she’s ready to relax in some deliciously hot water. The thunder and lightning have long passed, leaving only the grey cloud cover overhead. She manages to work out the controls and remove the hot tub cover, then changes into her swimsuit and grabs what may be the fluffiest, softest towel she’s ever seen from a linen closet as she heads to the balcony. She sinks slowly into the roiling water, exhaling as she relaxes back against the bench. She loses track of time and simply floats, watching the clouds scudding by above her.

The massage therapist arrives, a lithely muscled man named Antonio with a rich Hispanic accent. Chloe’s nerves are quickly put to rest with his professional demeanor, sense of humor, and immensely skilled hands.

By the time Antonio finishes her massage she’s a pleasantly warm puddle of goo, and the novelty of a nap appeals greatly to her. Chloe has no desire to sleep in her jeans, and Lucifer did say she could use anything in the apartment, so she helps herself to one of his shirts to nap in. She lays on Lucifer’s bed and tries not to dwell on his absence; Lux doesn’t run itself and he’s been unable to do much for the past couple of weeks. She buries her nose in the pillow under her cheek, but it only smells clean. She rolls over, snatching the other pillow and hugging it close, rewarded by a burst of his scent. Utterly relaxed and content, she closes her eyes and slips into a restful sleep.

************************

Lucifer closes the inventory document with a relieved sigh. Paperwork is finally done. Normally he doesn’t let it build to the point where it becomes onerous, but he hadn’t had a choice in the matter this time. Patrick had kept up what he could, and Lucifer was grateful for that. He checks and finds it’s just past one. He needs to leave soon for his appointment, but feels a little guilty for leaving the Detective to her own devices all morning after her admission that she didn’t want to be alone.

The elevator chimes its arrival on the penthouse level and Lucifer steps inside, breathing in the familiar surroundings. “Detective?”

No answer. He checks balcony and grins as he finds the hot tub cover removed, the jets still running.

_Well, what I wouldn’t have given to see that._

He glances through the glass doors into the bedroom and finds her sound asleep in his bed, curled around his pillow and looking more relaxed than he’s ever seen her. The lines of stress and sadness are lessened, softened into a lax expression of contentment. He watches her, smiling softly for a moment before moving to his desk for a small note pad.

_You looked rather peaceful, so I didn’t want to wake you. I’ll return here after my appointment with Dr. Linda. I’ve set an alarm on your phone so you make it home in time to meet your Offspring. I’ll come by your place around 7 to take care of her, please let me know if you need me at a different time._

_-L_

He sets the alarm as promised, then sets the phone on top of the note on the bedside table. She shifts in her sleep, some of the hair coming out of her straggling bun and drifting across her face. He allows his hand to drift down and tuck the loose strands behind her ear, away from her fluttering eyelashes. He smooths her hair back once more and she settles with a soft sigh, pressing her face back into his pillow.

“Enjoy your rest, Detective, you’ve certainly earned it.”

*************************

“Lucifer! You look fantastic!” Linda greets him with an enthusiastic hug.

“Why thank you, Doctor!” he purrs, “Though I would argue that I _always_ look fantastic, of course.”

“Well, since you were barely able to remain awake for our session last week, _this_ ,” she gestures at his upright, fully dressed figure, “is beyond a vast improvement. I’m so glad to see you out in the world again.” She gestures to the couch and smooths her dress, seating herself in her chair across the table. “So! It’s been another eventful week? Successful treatment and recovery? How are you feeling?”

“I’m nearly back to full strength, Doctor, and with my returning divinity, I’ve had a new development with the Detective situation.”

“ _Which_ Detective situation are we discussing?” Linda asks slowly, lifting a brow in curiosity.

“Ah-“ he pauses for a moment before continuing. “Touche, Doctor, I suppose there at least a couple situations we’ll be addressing today. This one in particular though, is my vulnerability around her- it appears to have resolved with my treatment. I’m completely invulnerable once again, even in her close proximity.”

“Really? That’s got to be a huge relief for you! I know you seemed to enjoy exploring your vulnerability in the beginning, but it seems like recently it’s been much more of a liability than a fascinating phenomenon for you.”

“You are correct, Doctor. I certainly won’t miss being able to be stabbed or shot with mortal weapons.” He grins and pours himself a glass of water. “So I’m feeling quite good about this particular development.”

“And what others are we discussing today?”

“Ah, yes. Well, I did have some time to ponder those points you gave me last week.”

“Where did your ponderings point you?”

_“I’d like you to think about your decision to go back to Hell, and the reasons behind it. I’d also like you think about the reasons you might have to want to stay.”_

“I…” he licks his lips, taking a drink from his glass before he continues. “I don’t _want_ to go back to Hell, Doctor.” Linda nods encouragingly. “But I’ve already given my word that I _will_ , once the Detective releases me from my promise to stay. So… I thought perhaps I would see if the Detective would be receptive to modifying the deal. Perhaps let me relocate to a different continent, somewhere far enough to be out of her life, but still on the Earthly plane. Then, perhaps I could still visit with you, and Miss Lopez from time to time- if you were willing to visit me in my new locale, of course.”

“Lucifer… has Chloe given you any indication that she actually wants you to leave?”

“No, quite the opposite. She actually said…” he trails off, shaking his head.

“What did she say?”

“She said… well, she said that she wants me to – to choose to be happy.” His eyes flicker up to meet hers briefly before fixing on the glass spinning idly in his hand now. “That she hopes I’ll choose to be happy… with _her_.”

“She wants you to choose her.” Linda manages to suppress a smile. “That sounds familiar to me, Lucifer.”

“Yes,” he grimaces, “I told her as much.”

“You _told_ her you wanted her to choose you?” she leans forward eagerly, hands clasped tightly over her knees.

“I did. We’ve had several conversations along those lines this week since we woke up from my treatment.”

“Lucifer! I’m so proud of you, talking about these feelings demonstrates _immense_ progress!” Linda praises warmly, then stops as she processes the rest of his statement. “Did you say, ‘since “we” woke up’?”

“Oh! Yes!” He exclaims excitedly, uncrossing he legs and leaning forward. “I haven’t told you yet… The treatment that my brothers came up with to rid me of my poison involved injecting me with the Detective’s blood to purge me of my divinity and thus give the poison nothing to cling to. As it happens, when my grace was forced from me it took the poison with it. Once it was free of my body, the poison separated from my divinity, which then somehow was attracted to the Detective, and was absorbed by her.”

Linda can’t formulate a response for several long moments. In fact, it’s all she can do to stop her jaw from dropping to her lap. “Are you saying that _Chloe_ has divinity now? _Your_ divinity?”

“It seems as though she does,” he grimaces again. “She’s already had her first self-actualization episode this morning, which led to a small breakdown, and possibly a not-so-small breakthrough.”

“Chloe has self-actualization?”

“Yes, Doctor, do try to keep up.” He snaps impatiently. “She healed her broken collarbone from her gunshot wound she got during our first case together, and apparently it gave her some insight into my Devil Face. She was… quite emotional about it, but seems to have recovered nicely. I provided her with a bit of a spa day afterward, and I left her peacefully napping at the penthouse when I came here.”

“Okay... okay, well I’ll make sure Chloe knows I’m available if she feels like she wants to speak with me, but let’s not get sidetracked- we’re still here to talk about _you_ , Lucifer. It sounds as though you’ve decided you would like to stay on Earth, but feel like you need to honor the unsolicited promise you made to go back to Hell in your video to Chloe?”

“Yes, of course Doctor. I am a Devil of my word.”

“But Lucifer, no one _asked_ you for that promise, and we’ve all told you that we _want_ you to stay with us.”

“Nonetheless, the promise was made, darling.” He replies, infuriatingly confused. “Although at the moment I’m held here until the Detective releases me from the promise she extracted from me to stay.”

“But she told you that she doesn’t want you to leave.”

“Hence, here I sit,” he replies calmly, “For now. She’s still laboring under the impression that she loves me, so I’ve… surrendered to that misconception for the time being.”

“Can you explain to me what you mean by that?”

“I care about the Detective quite a lot, as you already know, Doctor,” Lucifer elaborates. “I… I have no wish to hurt her by seeming to reject her, when I only want to protect her. It upsets her when I point out that I’m unworthy of her regard, so… I thought it may be less painful for her to… to go along with her delusion until she comes to her senses and sends me away.”

“You think _Chloe_ is deluded into thinking she loves you… and you think going along with it for her sake will be less painful for _her_.”

“Well, naturally.”

“No.” Linda holds up her hands, eyes closed, shaking her head. “Just… no, Lucifer. I know you feel strongly for Chloe, but you can’t just ignore your own feelings in favor of hers. That’s not healthy for either of you.”

“She’s sincere when she says she loves me, Doctor, and she has no desire to harm me at this point in time. Spending time with her until she’s ready to send me away will be no hardship for my part, especially now with my renewed invulnerability. She’s even entrusted me to care for her Offspring this evening while you ladies enjoy your night on the town.”

 _“You’re_ watching Trixie tonight?”

“Ye-es?” He confirms, but with an uptick at the end, as though he’s asking. “It didn’t make a great deal of sense to me either, but the Urchin asked me specifically, and I _did_ promise her a game night before this entire debacle started, so I thought I might fulfill two desires with one deed.”

"Okay. Okay, back on track again. What about the second thing I asked you to think about. Your reasons to stay?" 

"My reasons to stay, while tempting, are unfortunately irrelevant in light of my promises. I've never had... Friends. Before now. If I can convince the Detective to modify the deal so I can stay on this plane, then I can consider them. If she agrees, I do hope to convince you and Miss Lopez to visit me on occasion in my new home, wherever that might be."

"So you don't want to leave because of me, and Ella? What other reasons do you have to want to stay?"

"Aside from the fact that the alternative is quite literally Hell? Honestly, those reasons should be bloody more than enough."

"And yet you willingly offered to leave, without anyone ever asking you to do so."

"Of course I did, Doctor. As I told Miss Lopez, I feel that the Detective would feel much safer if I were far away from her, and her Offspring. Hell is the furthest I can go, therefore I felt that she would feel safest with me there." 

"But she didn't ask you to leave, Lucifer." 

"No, Doctor, when I made the promise, you'll recall that she had run away to Rome for a month and was _secretly plotting to send me back to Hell._ I don't think the message gets much clearer than that, does it?"

"Do you believe her when she says that she changed her mind?" Linda asks gently.

"I do. And I believe that she harbors guilt for what happened as a result of her actions. But... Doctor I don't... I don't see that it can change anything." 

"Why not?" 

"Why... Because if she can go from falling in love with me... To plotting to send me to Hell... Then back to professing to love me within a matter of weeks- then its only a matter of time before she wishes to send me away again, isn't it?" 

"Have you spoken to her about this yet?" 

"No," he murmurs quietly, "I have no wish to hurt her further." 

The gentle alarm sounds letting them know it's time to wrap up their session, and Linda suppresses a sigh of frustration. 

"I think you should talk with Chloe about this specifically. Then you can decide on her sincerity in wanting you in her life."

***********************

Chloe wakes to a musical chiming, and fumbles sleepily for her phone to shut it off. She opens her eyes and the afternoon sunlight streaming through the floor to ceiling windows tells her that the storm has passed. She squints at the phone screen, trying to remember why she set the alarm, then glances over at the bedside table and spies the note. His handwriting is like something out of an illustrated manuscript, and seems completely out of place on such a mundane object.

 _Well, that explains the alarm_. She’s surprised he thought to set it for her… but then again, he remembered to remind Amenadiel that Trixie would need to be picked up from school pretty much immediately after waking up from passing out after a dramatic “treatment”. The Devil really _does_ have a soft spot for her daughter. She slips off the bed and stretches, still feeling wonderfully warm and relaxed from her impromptu “spa day”. She pulls her clothes back on, and dithers for a moment on what to do with Lucifer’s shirt. There’s no visible laundry hamper, and it doesn’t feel right to just leave it on the bed, or the floor. She would take it home to wash it… but she’s nearly positive it’s dry-clean only. _Oh, screw it. I’ll take it with me and get it dry cleaned._ She pops the shirt into her travel bag, placing her now-dry swimsuit into a separate compartment of the bag.

She gets home well before Trixie’s bus is due to arrive, so she moves up to Maze’s room to tidy up, only to find that her partner has already set it back to pristine condition. The bedsheets are fresh and crisply made, and all evidence of any recent occupancy has been completely erased. She chuckles to herself, shaking her head. _When did he even have time to tidy up?_ She takes a quick shower so she can spend more time with Trixie this evening, then hurriedly dresses and meets her at the bus stop. Trixie barrels in the front door, calling excitedly for Lucifer and Chloe’s heart sinks yet again.

“Hey Trix, Lucifer went back to Lux today.”

“But… he’s coming back tonight, right??” Her daughter’s eyes are wide with concern, and Chloe is quick to reassure her.

“He’ll be back at 7… but I think he’s planning to go back to Lux once I get home, sweetie.”

“What happened? Did you make him go away?” The mistrust in her eyes sends daggers into Chloe’s heart.

“No baby, nothing happened. He’s just feeling better, that’s all. We knew he couldn’t stay with us forever. Let’s get started on your homework, okay?”

“Ooookaaaaaayyyyy,” Trixie drawls sadly. “Can we get pizza for dinner? And see if Lucifer wants some?”

“We can order pizza for dinner,” Chloe agrees, sighing. “And we can _ask_ if Lucifer wants to come early for dinner, but sweetie he’s probably really looking forward to having some time to himself again.”

****************************

Lucifer arrives at his penthouse and heads straight for his piano.

“Hello, darling,” he murmurs reverently as he seats himself on the bench, “I’ve missed you so.” His fingers stroke the keys tenderly, coaxing a flowing melody into existence with no discernable effort. He closes his eyes and simply plays, losing himself in the graceful chords emanating from the shining wooden body and filling the room around him. He pours all his emotions from the past two weeks into the music, drifting from hope to disappointment, betrayal to despair. Through it all runs the bittersweet undertone of an emotion so strong, so excruciatingly painful, so alien to him that he doesn’t even have a name for it- but from the empty (non-axe-related) ache in his chest, he has a sinking suspicion that it might be love.

The torrent of music finally comes to rest and he pulls in a deep, satisfying breath as the final notes shiver in the welcoming silence of the penthouse. Late afternoon shafts of sunlight spear through the windows in slanted columns, illuminating sparkling dust motes dancing in the breeze from the open balcony doors. He reluctantly stands from the bench and goes to the bar to pour himself a whiskey, swirling it gently in his hand as he wanders out onto the balcony. He leans against the railing and takes a slow, deep draught from his glass, enjoying the burn of the amber liquid as it rolls over his tongue and down his throat, lining his stomach with warmth. He exhales heavily just as his text alert sounds off. He settles onto the chaise lounge and pulls out his phone.

 ** _Lucifer will you come for dinner? We’re getting PIZZA!!!!!_** He chuckles to himself at the child’s excitement over pizza for dinner. She had complained to him _several_ times since he’d been staying with them about the sub-par pizzas she had tried while in Italy.

**_I told your mother I would be there at 7, Urchin. Surely you’d like to have some alone time with your mother before spending the weekend with Daniel?_ **

**_Mom says you can come early for dinner if you want. Pleeeeeeaaaaaassssseeeeeee????_ **

**_She says I shouldn’t bother you about it… but I really want you to come for dinner._ **

He sighs. Well, might as well make it 3 desires in a single gesture, then.

**_Very well, Beatrice. What time shall I be there?_ **

**_It’ll be here in 30!_ **

**_Then so shall I._ **


	23. The Eve Situation

He arrives in time to pay for the pizzas and take charge of the goods before he knocks on the door. Chloe answers with cash in hand, tilting her head in consternation to find him standing there like an overdressed pizza boy.

“Second job?” she teases, stepping aside to let him in.

“How _dare_ you?” He chuckles, using his foot to nudge the door closed behind him. “I would never- especially since I have inside information that those internet videos have the outcomes of these deliveries all wrong. Besides that, if you throw in this baby-sitting lark, this would be my _fourth_ job. On this plane, anyway. For someone who is financially independent, I do seem to wear rather a lot of hats, do I not?”

“Lucifer!” Trixie explodes into the room and Lucifer has just enough warning to set the pizzas on the bar before she collides with him. He’s steady enough on his feet now that he doesn’t even rock back on his heels with the impact.

“Child, you _did_ just see me this morning.”

“Yeah, but then I found out you _left_ us to go be by yourself again!”

“I’ve hardly left you if I’m standing right here with your grubby little hands clutching my Burberry, now have I?”

“You came back. But you’re _leaving_ again.”

“That was always the intention, Urchin,” he looks to Chloe for help but her eyes are cast down, a stricken look on her face. “I can’t just… continue to take advantage of your mother’s hospitality.”

“What’s hostipal--?”

 _“Hospitality,”_ he provides, carefully working on prying himself free of her embrace. “means… generosity, welcome for guests. Honestly, what does that educational institution teach you?”

“You’re not a guest, silly, you’re _family._ ” She lets him go and looks up at his earnestly, and he shifts his weight awkwardly, clearing his throat.

“Well, now that’s established,” he offers, “Dinner, anyone?”

Trixie is ecstatic to have her American pizza back- thick, chewy dough dripping with sauce and cheese, and not just bubbly bread with a dusting of both. The three of them seat themselves at the bar with paper plates and dig in hungrily. Chloe had ordered two extra-large pizzas in the hopes that Lucifer would indeed eat with them, and he demolishes one all on his own.

“Thanks for this morning, Lucifer,” Chloe ventures. “I haven’t been so relaxed in a long time.”

“Well, you should indulge yourself more often, Detective,” he winks at her with a faint enough leer that she can read the innuendo, but it doesn’t register for Trixie. “Antonio’s skills are absolutely magical, and hot bubbly water works wonders for tense muscles as well.”

“What happened this morning?” Trixie pipes up curiously.

“Lucifer gave me a relaxing spa day as a completely unnecessary ‘thank you’ for having him stay here while he was recovering, wasn’t that nice of him?”

Trixie mumbles an affirmative noise around a mouthful of pizza, eyes flickering attentively between her mother and her friend.

“Which venue will you ladies be gracing with your collective presence this evening, Detective?”

“I have no idea. It’s Ella’s turn to pick, and she likes finding the most off-the-wall places. At least it’s not a theme-night this time-“

There’s a knock at the door, and Chloe breaks off in surprise, not expecting anyone. Lucifer is on the side of the bar closest to the door, so he glances at Chloe and goes to answer.

“Lucifer, buddy!” For the second time in an hour Lucifer is ambushed with an enthusiastic hug, this time from a tiny, dark-haired forensic scientist. “You look great! How are you feeling? Chloe’s been giving us updates, but I haven’t seen you since lunch last week, and you looked so… and I _needed_ to see you and… I just wanted to make sure you were okay with my own eyes.”

“Hello, Miss Lopez,” he pats her back awkwardly, “As you can see, I’m recovering quite well, thank you. Would you care for some pizza?”

“Does anyone _ever_ say no to pizza?” she releases him cheerfully and follows him back to the bar, taking his seat next to Trixie and using his empty grease-stained plate to contain the slices she claims. He circles the bar and takes one of the stools next to Chloe.

“You’re looking lovely, Miss Lopez- nearly as ravishing as Vegas! I was just asking where you ladies were heading this evening, but the Detective didn’t know?” Chloe’s interest peaks when he mentions _ravishing_ in Vegas, and she makes a mental note to ask them about it later.

“Oh, hey, thanks buddy!” She stands and does a slow spin- just as she had then- showcasing her mid-thigh-length shiny pink sheath dress. “Yeah, I found this _amazing_ little place with the best cocktails by the pitcher- they have these little plastic swords for the fruits, and we can have swordfights when we’re done with the drinks-“

“Make sure Maze knows she can _only_ use the fake swords _in_ the drinks before you enter the field of battle, Miss Lopez- that will be very important, trust me.”

“Ooooh, right! Demon, yeah?” Ella’s eyes widen, and Lucifer has just enough time to get concerned before she grins widely, “OMG, she makes _so much more sense now_!”

“Right?” Chloe agrees, while Trixie giggles at Ella’s revelatory excitement. “She really does.”

“I’m sure you’ll enjoy your night. Eve is excited about it, she’s been texting me since you invited her, Miss Lopez.”

“What’s the story there, bud? I get that you haven’t seen each other in a long time, but she seems, like _super_ into you.”

“Yes, that’s rather what I was afraid of as well, Miss Lopez. Eve is… a wonderful person, and a very old friend. I’ve been as clear as I can be that I’ve changed a lot since our time together, and that our relationship can’t go back to what it was before. I’ve yet to come up with a better way to dissuade her. I hope this evening will help her- at this moment I’m literally the only person she knows on Earth. I’ve no wish to hurt her, but if she makes some friends, perhaps she’ll find a distraction, or someone who can offer her more than I.”

“Hmm,” Ella catches his eye, then shoots a surreptitious glance at Chloe, then Trixie. “Are you still --?”

“Yes…” Lucifer picks up her train of thought. “That particular course of action is on hold for the moment. I am here… until circumstances change.”

“Circumstances?”

“We’ll discuss it later, Miss Lopez?” he suggests, glancing briefly at Trixie. She follows his gaze and nods, as Chloe’s eyes flicker between the two of them.

“Trix, let’s go ahead and get your bath done, okay? You know your Dad’s place only has the shower, and we can give Lucifer and Ella a little time to talk before you get him to yourself for the evening.”

Trixie’s disappointed, but knows better than to argue and she knows she _will_ have Lucifer’s company all evening- she bets he doesn’t know the first thing about bedtimes- so she follows her mother willingly.

“So, circumstances?” Ella’s deep brown eyes bore into his, and he knows she won’t be redirected.

“Yes, Miss Lopez, I’m in a bit of a holding pattern. I spoke with Dr. Linda about it just this afternoon. I’ve given my word to return to Hell, but the Detective has extracted a promise from me to stay. So… until she tells me to go, I shall be remaining here.” He wets his lips and leans across the bar toward her. “Since she’s told me that she currently doesn’t actually want me in Hell, I’m considering asking the Detective if she might allow a modification of the initial promise… to allow me to stay on the Earthly plane, perhaps merely to relocate continents.”

“Does she want you to leave at all?” Ella ventures, “ ‘Cause I really don’t get that vibe from her.”

“The good Doctor suggested that I need to have a conversation with the Detective about all this, but that was only this morning.” He spreads his hands helplessly.

“Lucifer… it seems pretty simple. If you don’t want to go back… don’t go back. You’re not-“

“I _made a promise_ , Miss Lopez. My word is my bond.” His tone is resolute, face set in a closed expression. Only the haunted expression in his dark eyes gives away any of his inner turmoil, and Ella’s heart goes out to him.

“So… what would it take to release you from your promise?”

“I would never ask for that, Miss Lopez.”

“Right, I get that. But what if-“

“I would _never_.” His voice catches in his throat.

“Okay.” Ella stands and rounds the bar, wrapping him in a reassuring embrace. “Okay buddy, I know you wouldn’t. I just… I wanted to help you be able to stay.” His chin rests on top of her head and hands slowly come up to her shoulders, tentatively returning the hug. Now her heart breaks a little- because they’re trembling. It’s slight, but she can feel it.

“Thank you, Miss Lopez.”

A soft cough behind them announces Chloe’s presence, but Ella just squeezes him tighter. Lucifer turns his head to greet her, taking in her simple, silvery blouse and form-fitting black slacks with appreciation in his eyes. He pats Ella’s shoulders and she releases him, stepping away and brushing surreptitiously underneath her eyes.

“Well, Detective, I see you’re ready for your girls’ night. What do I need to know about Spawn care for the evening before you go?”

**********************************

The Uber ride to the bar is unnaturally quiet, especially considering that Ella is one of the passengers. Finally, the tiny lab tech turns to her friend with an intense expression in her eyes.

“Okay Chloe, this is girls’ night, so I’m gonna drop the subject once we’re out of the car, but I’m gonna tell you this right now. _You_ need to find a way to fix this, and get him to stay. He’s as good as my brother, and I’m _not losing him_. He’s put himself in your hands. You’re my friend, and I love you like a sister, but if you _break_ him anymore than he’s already been broken… I don’t know if I’ll be able to forgive you.”

“I know, Ella,” Chloe meets her friend’s glare steadily. “I’ve already hurt him so much, and I’m _trying_ to get through to him. I think we’ve made some progress, and he’s promised not to leave. He’s convinced that I’m going to change my mind and send him away, so that’s what I’m working on… but it’s going to take time.”

“Don’t run away again, Decker. He’s just waiting for you to push him away.”

“I’m not running, Ella. Never again. I’ve made some serious mistakes, but I love him. And… I think he loves me, too.”

“Good. Now- what’s the plan to get Eve off his back?” Ella’s eyes sharpen, but this time the ice in the glare isn’t meant for Chloe.

“Oh, you spotted that, too?” Chloe grimaces. “From what I’ve heard and what Lucifer’s told me, she’s been angling to move into Lux with him, offering to help him during his convalescence. He doesn’t seem to want her there, but she’s turning down the offers of help he _has_ made to help her find a place. So, we came up with the idea of having her room with Maze instead until she can get on her feet.”

“Okay, so that’s a start, but how do we stop her pushing her boundaries with him? He told me that they used to be together, but that he’s made it clear they’re not getting back together. What’s the deal with them? Does she know that you two --?”

“I don’t really know. She told him that she’s okay being only friends, but he says she seems to keep pushing for more. She told _me_ to take care of him when we were leaving lunch. She said it was clear to her that we’d hurt each other, but that it was also clear that we care for each other… and that he’d given me his heart.”

“Hmm. So she’s acknowledging that you two have something… but isn’t above plugging herself into the situation. Maybe she figures she’s still got a chance, since you’re not… quite… together?”

“Maybe.”

“And he’s not interested in her?”

“So he says, and you know he doesn’t lie. But Lucifer seems pretty sure that she’s a good person. He did say she’s really naïve, and terrible at taking hints.”

“Okay, we’ll see how tonight goes. But if you need help taking her out, I’m _in_.”

They pull up to the curb outside the bar and two women nod to one another, exiting the car in perfect amiability. Linda and Maze have already claimed a table, and Eve has yet to arrive. Ella and Chloe take a moment to fill in the other two women on what Ella dubs the “Eve Situation” before she arrives. Maze was already aware of the roommate plot, but her eyes light up when Ella outlines the secondary situation of Eve’s apparent designs on Lucifer.

“Maze, _no_ ,” Chloe admonishes. “I know that look. Please, just… help us out in this?”

“Oh, I’m not gonna do anything but _enjoy the show_.” Maze snickers. “You guys know the story?”

“That Eve is _Eve_ , from the Garden? Yeah?” Chloe elaborates, confused.

“Well, yeah, but… I’m all for helping to derail any designs she’s got. My mother was her husband’s first wife.”

“Wait… Adam had a wife before Eve?” Linda’s eyebrows raise in surprise.

“Oh yeah,” Maze glowers into the middle distance. “Lilith wasn’t big on obedience. She got banished from the Garden for refusing to submit, and God created Eve as a replacement. So I’m totally in on this plan.”

“Maze-“

“It’ll be _fine_ , Decker, relax!” Maze bites the cap off her bottle of beer and spits it onto the floor beside her stool, earning her a dirty look from their server. “I’m not gonna hurt her. I’m just gonna have some fun.”

“Detective! Ella!” an effervescent Eve appears at their table in a red off-the-shoulder dress with silver vine patterns accenting the neckline and flowing sleeves “You look fantastic!”

“Please don’t call me that-“ Chloe begins, but Maze breaks in.

“Well, who’s the new girl?”

“Oh, I’m not _new_ ,” Eve retorts with a grin, eyes sparkling. “I’ve been around a long time… but I haven’t been in town very long.”

“Eve, _please_ call me Chloe. This is Linda, and Maze.”

“Maze? As in _Mazikeen of the Lilim?”_ Eve’s eyes widen in awe. “Oh my God, Lucifer’s told me all about you! He just… didn’t tell me you were so damn _hot!”_

“Okay, I like her.” Maze’s lips stretch in a predatory grin.

The other three women look at one another in surprise. _Maybe this will be easier than we thought._

*******************

Trixie decides to pass on Monopoly for game night, since Monopoly is no fun with only two people. She opts for Phase 10 instead. It’s a bitter war, with Lucifer only just squeaking out a victory. He preens at the win, and Trixie retaliates by picking an incredibly intricate and glittery floral design for her face paint, then giggles the entire time, forcing Lucifer to start over twice because he’s insistent on delivering a perfect depiction.

Lucifer reluctantly agrees to Disney karaoke, but only if Trixie swears to secrecy, and surrenders her cell phone so he can’t be recorded. ( _“I’m sorry, Urchin, but I can’t risk a video of_ that _getting out- my reputation would never recover.”_ ) Trixie picks the song “Be Prepared” for him, and he brings his full devilish flair to it. Trixie thinks her cheeks are going to split from smiling so hard.

Lucifer teaches Trixie the joys of making dessert pizza, and they both sprawl on the floor of the living room with the remnants of their chocolatey-marshmallowy treat between them as an animated movie plays in the background.

“You know, this is _not_ an accurate portrayal of the Greek mythos. Heracles was actually-“

“Lucifer, it’s not supposed to be _real_ , it’s a _cartoon!_ It’s just supposed to be fun.” She giggles. Her face is liberally smeared with dessert, and Lucifer eyes her warily.

“Fun, eh?”

“Oh c’mon, you had fun tonight.” Trixie rolls her eyes, and he stifles a smile at her resemblance to her annoyed mother.

“I’ll admit to enjoying our time together this evening, Offspring,” he grimaces as he runs a hand over his sparkling hair. “Though I maintain my position on glitter. When I return to Hell I’m incorporating it in several different torture techniques. I shall never manage to remove it from my… suit… properly. What’s wrong, Urchin?” The child’s eyes have widened and she’s staring at him with trembling lips.

“You’re leaving?”

_Oh. Well, I suppose it’s time for that conversation now._

“Beatrice, that _is_ something I’ve been wanting to speak with you about. I’m sure you remember our conversation last week, when you were so upset?” The girl nods, and he continues as she watches him carefully. “While you and your mum were on your trip, I made a promise that I would return to Hell so that your mother would feel safe in returning to your home here in LA.”

“But… we’re already home. And you’re the one that _keeps_ Mommy safe at work!”

“And I’ll continue to do so, as long as your mother desires it. Your mum has asked me to stay for now, but Urchin- I don’t want you to have any false expectations. When she tells me to leave, I will do so. I will attempt not to leave until I’ve had a chance to say goodbye, but I don’t know if it will be possible.”

“My mom _loves_ you. She’s not going to tell you to leave.” Trixie declares this as though it’s chiseled into a stone tablet she’s carried down from the mountaintop herself. “She doesn’t want you to leave, and neither do I… Do _you_ want to leave?”

“No, child, I do not want to leave. But sometimes keeping promises involves doing things we would rather not do.”

“And your word is your bond,” she repeats back to him sadly.

“So it is,” he agrees softly.

“If Mommy loves you, why would she tell you to go away? You told me last week when I was afraid that she might send _me_ away that she would never do that because she loves me!” Lucifer wonders briefly how such a tiny human can make her eyes so enormous and expressive.

“There is a vast difference between you and me, Beatrice,” the devil murmurs softly. “Your value far exceeds my own. I am… unworthy of your mother’s affections. She knows that, I’ve told her before- multiple times now. She deserves someone… better.”

“But… doesn’t she get to decide who’s worthy, who she loves?” The child’s voice is guileless, and yet he feels as though he’s nearing a trap.

“Of course she does, Urchin, that’s the entire point of free will.”

“Do you love her?”

“ _My_ feelings hardly matter,” he prevaricates.

“Um, _yeah_ , they do.” She raises a single eyebrow at him in admonition, and he’s again reminded strongly of her mother. “ _Do_ you love her?”

He sighs in frustration. “You have quite the future as an interrogator, Offspring, do you know that?”

“That’s not an answer.” She crosses her arms over her chest, though her glare is somewhat ruined by her chocolate-stained face.

“It’s… complicated.” He admits reluctantly. “I care for your mother, very much. But, Beatrice, human emotions are not something I have great familiarity with. I want your mother’s happiness above my own, her safety above my own. I would have no greater joy than to remain by her side in whatever role she would allow me, for as long as she wishes me to be there. She feels like _home_ to me… but I have no way to know if that is what you humans call ‘love’. What?” The child is grinning messily at him.

“It sure sounds like you love her.” She announces smugly. He decides it’s time to deploy a distraction.

“Ugh, Beatrice, I’m afraid I just can’t take you seriously with your dessert smeared across your face. Could I prevail upon you to wash? It’s nearly time for you to go to sleep, anyway.”

She smirks at him, “Promise you’ll tell her, when you figure it out?”

“When I figure what out?” He narrows his eyes suspiciously, lifting his chin to look down his nose at her.

“That you love her.” Trixie scoots closer to him, and he scoots back conspicuously. “I’ll wash my face and hands _before_ I hug you, if you promise to tell her that you love her, as _soon_ as you figure it out.”

“Beatrice, there’s no point in making that deal. I’m no closer to figuring out how I feel about your mother _now_ than I was when I died to protect her the first time… and that was 2 years ago!” His eyes dart around, making note of his exit routes in case the child rushes him.

“Then there’s no downside to the deal for you, is there?” she proposes innocently, and now he’s absolutely certain it’s a trap, but he can’t quite pinpoint it. The child stands and moves toward him, arms extended, and he leaps to his feet and backwards, palms up in surrender.

“All right! You have a deal – now… now please go wash!”

Trixie heads to bathroom to wash, and Lucifer clears away the remains of dessert, refrigerating the leftovers and quickly washing the dishes before she returns. He’s relaxed on the couch idly watching the inaccurate movie when Trixie returns, dressed in her pajamas. He sends her back for one more scrub before she passes his mandatory inspection and he allows her to crawl onto the couch with him. She chooses to squeeze in between him and the arm of the couch, curling up small and snuggling into his side.

“That cannot be comfortable, Urchin, there is plenty of room elsewhere.” He protests, but she refuses to move, and wraps her arm around his waist, preventing him from scooting away.

“I like it here. You’re warm.” She rests against his chest, and he lets himself relax. She’s warm too, and suddenly he’s exhausted. Too many emotional conversations, and his mind is still whirling trying to make sense of all of it. He wasn’t anticipating the attack from Beatrice, and he hadn’t had a defense prepared. He can only hope the girls’ night plan to get Eve to move in with Maze is succeeding, as he doesn’t know how much more onslaught he can handle right now.

********************

Girls’ night is going _great_.

Linda sips her soda, simply telling her friends she’s not up for drinking tonight, just company. Chloe happily jumps on that bandwagon while Ella, Maze, and Eve take on the burden of making up for the alcohol the other two aren’t consuming. Ella heads to the bar for another cocktail while Chloe and Linda watch Maze and Eve on the dance floor.

“I didn’t expect her to be so… likeable,” Linda admits as Eve’s infectious laugh rings out over the din.

“I know,” Chloe agrees. “I can see why Lucifer is being so careful with her, hurting her would be like… kicking a puppy. Not that he enjoys hurting people in general, but-”

“No, I know what you mean, Chlo’.” Linda tries not to think about her conversation with Lucifer earlier in the day. “She’s sweet.”

Ella returns to the table with her drink, pushing the sword down to the bottom so the fruit can steep in the alcohol until she’s ready to eat it. “So how’s it hangin’ ladies?? I feel like the last few weeks have just been surreal. I’m so glad you’re coming back on Monday, Chloe, I _missed_ you guys!”

“Oh, I don’t think Lucifer’s coming back yet-“ Ella makes disbelieving noises, and Chloe continues, “I’m probably going to be on desk duty for at least a few days… again. You know how much he hates paperwork.”

“Yeahhh, sitting still is tough on our devil… but when does he think he’s coming back, then?”

“I asked him about that yesterday, actually, but he didn’t really give me an answer.”

“What did he say?” Linda leans forward, interested. He hadn’t mentioned anything about not returning to consulting during their session.

“That until his strength returns completely, he’d be more of a liability than an asset… but he’s doing so much better even just today than he was yesterday. He did also try to give me an ‘out’… he said that his injury and recovery would be the perfect way to end our partnership without having to answer a bunch of questions from everyone at the precinct.”

Linda sighs silently and nods to herself. _That_ certainly sounds like the devil she knows.

“I’m gonna kick his immortal butt!” Ella exclaims hotly, and Chloe snickers into her soda. “No way are we letting him crawl away without a fight, right Decker?”

“Damn straight,” Chloe agrees, lifting her glass to toast Ella. Linda grins at the pair of them, still watching Maze and Eve dancing. “I’m just amazed he agreed to watch Trix tonight so I could come out when Dan backed out for work.”

“That girl has him wrapped around her little finger,” Ella smirks, licking some of the sugar off her cocktail rim. “She loves him almost as much as you do.”

Chloe’s cheeks flush and she ducks her head, but doesn’t argue with Ella’s assessment- which only makes her grin wider.

“And how are _you_ doing Chloe?” Linda asks the question she’s really been wanting the answer to. “These past few weeks have been difficult for you, I know.”

“There’s definitely been some… developments to get used to,” Chloe wonders how much Linda knows, how much Amenadiel or Lucifer have told her about the treatment, and her new feature. She’s not sure she wants to tell Ella about her divinity yet… and _definitely_ not in the middle of a crowded bar. “I was thinking it might be good to make an appointment with you – if you’d be okay seeing me as a-”

“Yes,” Linda replies immediately, a wry smile crossing her face. “It’s not normal, or strictly ethical… but given the situations you’ve been dealing with, I honestly can’t think of a referral I’d be able to give you.”

“Yeah, that was kinda my thought, too.” Chloe laughs nervously.

“OMG,” Ella gasps suddenly. “Guys, _look_!”

They follow Ella’s gaze out to the dance floor, where Maze and Eve are dancing closely together, eyes locked in an intense gaze, and completely oblivious to the rest of the world.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Linda chuckles. “ _That_ was not part of Maze’s plan, I guarantee it.” 

The three women exchange a grinning, knowing look, and the conversation turns as they catch up with one another’s lives in traditional girls’ night fashion.

*************************

Girls’ night breaks up a little earlier than usual, with two of them not drinking and two of them completely wrapped up in one another. Ella gets her fill of alcoholic sweetness and challenges Linda and Chloe to a swordfight with her drink sticks, since Maze is too busy with Eve to take part in battle that _doesn’t_ involve bloodshed and disembowelment. Once the field of battle has been cleared, with Linda the clear victor, Ella takes her slightly unsteady leave. Chloe makes sure she meets her Uber, then heads back inside to Linda. The two women chat lightly until Maze and Eve collapse at the table next to them, laughing uproariously.

“You two were burning up the floor out there!” Linda remarks, giggling. “Looking good, ladies!”

“I haven’t had this much fun in… well… _ever!”_ Eve sighs happily, taking a deep drink of her appletini. “Maze is even more fun than Lucifer said!”

Maze gives her a feral grin, slinging her arm across Eve’s shoulders. “ _This_ lady has the best moves out there.”

“Have you had any luck finding a place to stay, Eve?” Chloe interjects slyly. “Lucifer said you were looking. I remember how tough it was to find a place when I was looking, and I was already familiar with the area!” 

“Oh, well – I hadn’t had any luck, but while we were dancing, Maze mentioned that she’s been looking for a roommate, and we thought we might give it a try.”

“Hey, that’s great!” Chloe cheers, “Maze is a great roommate, my daughter and I lived with her for a little while before we got back on our feet after my divorce.”

“Are you calling me a halfway house, Decker?” Maze scowls.

“I think she’s just suggesting that you’re a supportive friend, Maze,” Linda suggests gently, and Maze’s face softens in response. “When will you move in?”

“Maze said I could crash with her tonight and get my stuff tomorrow!”

“Well, you ladies enjoy your evening. I’m off.” Chloe groans dramatically. “It’s been a really long week, and I’m hoping to catch up on some rest this weekend before I go back to work on Monday.”

“C’mon Chlo’, I’ll drive you home,” Linda offers. “You’re practically on my way.”

Chloe gives a token protest, but accepts the ride in the end. They part ways with Maze and Eve, who head back out onto the dance floor with far too much energy for this time of night. Once they’re in the car, the two women look at each other and start to giggle.

“ _Who_ saw that coming?!” Linda exclaims, hooting with laughter. “Eve seems like she’ll be great for Maze, if they really do hit it off.”

“And Lucifer will be relieved if Eve isn’t nipping at his heels anymore…”

“And you, too?” Linda lifts an eyebrow in her direction as she presses the ignition button on the dash. She grins wickedly, catching Chloe’s blush before the dome light goes out when the engine flares to life.

“Maybe…” Chloe mutters under her breath, looking out the window to evade Linda’s eyes.

“Was there anything specific you wanted to talk about while we have some time, Chloe?” Linda asks kindly, keeping her eyes on traffic.

“You know, don’t you?” Chloe sighs in relief, “About this little… side effect from Lucifer’s treatment?”

“I may have heard something about something.”

“I wound up playing… host, I guess?... to Lucifer’s divinity. Which is now apparently _my_ divinity… according to God.”

“You talked to _God_?” Linda stares at Chloe until she starts to get nervous.

“Linda? Traffic?”

“Right! Right!” The doctor jerks her eyes back to the road, focusing hard on not looking away. “How on Earth are you handling that little conversation?”

“Honestly… he really comes across as an asshole mad scientist.” Linda barks a surprised laugh at Chloe’s description. “It was a little overwhelming at first, but… he didn’t give me any information on how to do anything with this… this thing that I’ve wound up with. Amenadiel and Raphael couldn’t really tell me much about it either, and Lucifer… well, he’s very familiar with the effects of it, but he’s just as in the dark about trying to manage it as I am.”

“Manage it?” Linda parrots curiously. “What do you mean?”

“God told me that I’d have some “actualization abilities”, that I’d heal faster when I’m wounded, or that I could slow or stop the aging process… or even become immortal? That I might even be able to sprout wings, if I ever _really_ needed to. But he gave me _zero_ information on how to make any of that happen. I was hoping you might be able to give me some insights on that when I make an appointment…”

“Wow,” Linda breathes, knuckles white on the steering wheel as she focuses on breathing and driving. “I’m hardly an expert, Chloe, but of course we can discuss it. How are things with Lucifer going, then?”

“We’ve had… several conversations this week, and I hope we’ve made some progress in getting him to, to stay. He let me help him take care of his wings. I told him that I want him to stay, to be happy. I think I might be getting through to him… a little.”

“I know he can be stubborn,” Linda commiserates wryly as she pulls up in front of Chloe’s apartment.

“Understatement.” Chloe sighs. “Thanks so much for the ride home, Linda. I’ll call your office on Monday to see when you’ve got an opening?”

“I’ll look forward to it, and if you need anything in the meantime… please call, Chloe.”

Chloe reaches out and grasps the other woman’s forearm warmly, then exits the car. 

She enters the apartment quietly, knowing Trixie will be asleep. She removes her jacket and boots at the door, then glances into Trixie's bedroom and finds it empty. Smiling, she moves into the living room, unsurprised to find her daughter snuggled on the couch with her best friend, her head pillowed on his chest and his arm protectively wrapped over her shoulders. His head lolls back onto the back of the couch, and he's snoring lightly. She takes a moment to appreciate his profile, the long line of his neck stretched back, his strong chin and aquiline nose leading into his expressive brows. His hair is starting to escape its product prison, a few rebel curls breaking free. She quickly takes out her phone and snaps a photo of them. 

She briefly considers letting them stay there, going and putting on her pajamas and curling up right there on Lucifer's other side... But she knows he can't be comfortable in that position. She leans on the back of the couch, lowering her head so it's next to his and whispers in his ear. 

"Hey. I'm home." 

"Hmm?" His head turns a little toward her voice. 

"Lucifer. I'm home. It's late, you're tired, why don't you come upstairs to bed?" 

"Hmm. Welcome home, Detective," he murmurs sleepily, and her heart speeds up at the husky sound of his waking voice. "Did I hear you trying to get me into bed?" 

She snickers, and threads a hand into his hair, ruffling it a little and enjoying his small indignant sounds. "You can't be comfortable sleeping here. Let me get Trix into bed and you can sleep here tonight. " 

He smiles up at her, then looks down at the child nestled close against him. He repositions his arm around her shoulder and scoops the other under her knees, lifting himself and the child from the couch in a single smooth movement. Trixie doesn't even twitch as he settles her into her bed, and Chloe tucks the covers around the deeply sleeping girl, placing a kiss on her forehead.

Lucifer is standing blearily in the doorway to the living room, looking for all the world as though he's still more than half asleep. Chloe grabs his hand and tugs him toward the stairs, turning off lights as she goes.

"C'mon sleepy head, looks like it's past all our bedtimes."

"I should be going back to Lux, Detective," he protests muzzily, but he doesn't pull away from her loose grasp.

"Lux won't miss you for one more night," she asserts, gently pulling him up the stairs behind her.

He pauses at the door to Maze's room, but Chloe guides him on, down the hall to her bedroom.

"Detective?" 

"I've... gotten used to sleeping beside you," she murmurs shyly. "Do you mind sleeping in here with me tonight?"

"Of course not, darling, but-" 

"Good." she interrupts. "I'm going to change into my pajamas. Make yourself at home, please." 

He watches, bewildered, as she retreats into the adjoining bathroom. After a moment he removes his shoes, waistcoat, and belt and sits on the far edge of the bed before laying down on his back, one arm comfortably behind his head and the other draped across his waist.

He hears the water shut off in the sink, and the Detective emerges in her now-familiar sleep outfit of a loose t-shirt and shorts. She stops short, taking him in fully dressed. 

"You're sleeping in that?" 

"I didn't come prepared for a slumber party, Detective," he retorts playfully, "I was only supposed to watch your spawn this evening, after all. And I already took the rest of my clothes back to Lux." 

"Will you be comfortable enough?" 

"I'll be fine, darling. Are you coming to bed?" He gestures to the empty place beside him, and she shuts off the bedside lamp and settles in without hesitation, rolling on her side to face him. 

"How was girls' night?" he asks quietly, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as she settles the covers around herself. 

"Good. Maze and Eve hit it off really well. She's staying with Maze tonight and getting the rest of her stuff tomorrow to move in." 

"Excellent," he whispers, almost to himself. "You are bloody brilliant, Detective, Maze will be the perfect host for Eve. I owe you one."

"No debt, Lucifer. I just hope it works the way we want it to."

"So do I," he slurs, eyes already fluttering closed again.

She watches the rippling moonlight caress his sleeping face for awhile before she gives in to her own need for sleep, breathing in his warm scent, enjoying his presence for one more night. 


	24. What Just Happened?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry. Chapter title kinda says it all.

Lucifer drifts slowly toward wakefulness, finding himself comfortably and blissfully entangled with an invitingly soft body. He turns his head sleepily so his nose presses into the hollow of a shoulder and inhales an intoxicating, familiar scent as he feels deft fingers threading into the hair at the nape of his neck. His lips instinctively find the pulse point and slowly trace upward, eliciting a light moan from the throat they’re caressing. His body gathers its response as she presses against him.

“Lucifer,” the too-familiar voice heatedly breathing his name into his ear yanks him into full wakefulness with a jarring gasp.

“Detective?” his voice is ragged with sleep and need, but he pulls away from her quickly. His aching morning erection is an unwelcome reminder that he is most _definitely_ feeling better, and her fingers tightening in his hair are certainly not helping that situation in the slightest. Her sea-blue eyes fix on his, pupils dilated. _Fear, or desire?_ He wonders briefly, before she pulls him slowly to her lips. He goes willingly, their mouths melding together as the thin grey light of dawn creeps through the gauzy curtains and paints them in dim moving shadows. His broad palm comes up to cup the back of her head gently, fingers tangling in her hair and for a while there is no sound but their uneven breathing, their lips whispering together.

Chloe’s hand is reaching for the first button of his shirt when a sudden BANG from the window causes both of them to flinch backward. A small outline of dew on the windowpane and a couple of sadly floating feathers slowly helicoptering toward the ground tells them what happened… a bird had flown into the window- attacking its reflection in the early morning light. Thinking that he knows just how that bird is feeling, Lucifer clears his throat and gently disentangles himself from their embrace, turning away from Chloe to throw his legs off the side of the bed.

“Good morning, Detective, I’m terribly sorry about that.” he tries for cheerful, but his tone is strained. “I certainly didn’t intend to accost you that way. I should be heading back to Lux before your offspring awakens and finds me still here.”

“Lucifer –?”

“I appreciate your letting me sleep here again, darling, I was rather knackered. I would have been all right to drive home, of course, but it was quite nice not to need to battle my way through the Friday night throng at Lux to make it up to the penthouse.” He bends and slips his shoes on, focusing carefully on tying the laces as he fiercely focuses his mind on the least arousing images he can conjure, trying to ease the fiery ache in his groin.

“Of course,” she replies dazedly, sitting up as she watches him tucking his shirt back into his waistband, sliding on his belt and buttoning his waistcoat before sliding his jacket back onto his shoulders. “Lucifer, you don’t have to-“

“It’s quite all right, Detective. I know Daniel will be here at some point to pick up the Urchin, and we wouldn’t want to give him the wrong idea, either. Perhaps…” he looks back at her from the doorway, her hair disarrayed and eyes wide and confused at his sudden retreat. “We should probably talk sometime soon. I have some things I would like to discuss with you, about my promise, and about… us. Where we stand, that is. At your convenience of course. I’m likely to be at loose ends for the near future, anyway, so if you wouldn’t be opposed to giving me a call when you have some time free of interruptions?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” she shakes her head, feeling a chill now that he’s no longer beside her. “I’ll stop by later today, after Dan picks up Trixie?”

“I shall look forward to it.” He gives her a deep nod that nearly translates into a bow, and then he’s gone, the door swinging shut quietly behind him. She doesn’t hear him take the stairs, but hears the front door click and the deadbolt engage again once he’s outside.

“What just happened?” she murmurs to herself. She takes a deep breath, trying to disperse the tingling arousal that had awakened in her stomach when Lucifer had nuzzled into her, blazing up when his lips had fastened on her throat. Her fingers absently trace the path they had taken, and she can feel the ghost of his stubble there. Then that kiss… _Not helping the settling, Chloe. Time to get up… and maybe take a cold shower._

**************************

The moment Lucifer arrives in his penthouse, he takes a decanter and tumbler to the piano, lights a cigarette and starts to play. His fingers fly across the keys without any conscious direction, emotions pouring from them in torrents of cascading music. Time slips away as the music thrums through and around him, his thoughts racing. He goes over his session with Linda from yesterday, and tries to order his points that he needs to cover with the Detective today.

_I need to ask her if she’s willing to allow me to modify the promise to leave, first and foremost. If she is, then we can discuss locations that she might be comfortable allowing me to relocate to. Once we’ve settled that, then we can talk about our current situation. I’ll need to apologize for this morning, of course, hopefully she won’t be too terribly angry about that little mistake when we woke up._

He fights very hard _not_ to think about the softness of her body against his, her fingers in his hair pulling him down to meet her lips, and… _Dammit, that’s a losing battle._ The music stutters to a discordant end. He leaves the untouched cigarette smoldering to dying embers in the ashtray and slams back two fingers of scotch before retreating to his closet to rid himself of his rumpled suit. _It’s time for a shower anyway._

**************************

Chloe chokes a strangled gasp as she steps under the icy stream. She stands there shivering for several minutes before she relents and turns the water to a warmer setting. She finishes her shower quickly, teeth still chattering a bit when she emerges and wraps herself in a towel. The heat from the blowdryer feels glorious, and she spends a little more time with it than she usually would, steadfastly _not_ remembering the heat of his hand, his fingers in her hair. She pulls her hair back into a loose ponytail and continues her normal morning routine. Still feeling chilled _(Only from the shower,_ she assures herself, _it has absolutely nothing to do with Lucifer’s rapid departure this morning.)_ , she throws on a sweater and a pair of jeans, then descends to the kitchen to start breakfast for Trixie. _And why can I smell coffee?_

She enters the kitchen to find a pot of fresh coffee, piping hot and ready for drinking. She stares at it blankly for a moment before she retrieves her mug from its peg and prepares her morning cup. _He was in such a hurry to leave, but he took the time to make sure I had coffee ready for me._ The creamy bittersweetness of her caffeine fix blooms on her tongue as she contemplates her partner. Determined to keep distance, but also dead set on taking care of her as much as possible. There has to be a way to make this work. Her thoughts travel back to their time together here since his arranged escape from the hospital. Despite the heinousness of her actions against him, he never seemed uncomfortable in her presence. The opposite, in fact- he often moved toward her in his sleep, or in his fevered states. It certainly seems like they both felt most comfortable when the other was near, often leaning or snuggling into one another without even realizing it… until suddenly one of them _would_ realize and temporary awkwardness would ensue.

 _He wants to talk about us… about where we stand… and his promise. Which promise? The one where he’s leaving? Or the one where he’s staying? Where do we stand… where do I want to stand? With him. Where does_ he _want to stand?_ She wonders miserably. _But he wants to talk about it, so… that’s got to be a good thing._

She finishes her first cup of coffee and prepares a second, then lets it cool a bit as she gathers the ingredients for chocolate chip pancakes- Trixie’s favorite. She looks in the refrigerator and finds leftovers of what appears to be a s’mores dessert pizza. She smirks, and swaps out the chocolate chips for blueberries in the pancakes. Lucifer must have indulged Trixie in some dessert last night after Chloe went out. By the time Trixie emerges, yawning, from her bedroom, the pancakes are ready and Chloe is frying some bacon for the side.

“G’morning, Mommy,” the girl mumbles sleepily. “Is Lucifer here?”

“No baby, he went back to Lux. Come have some breakfast with me?” She pours her disappointed daughter a glass of milk, and sets the warmed bottle of blueberry syrup next to her daughter’s plate. “Did you have fun with him last night?”

“Yeah!” Her eyes light up with her grin. “He beat me at Phase 10, but then we did Karaoke, and I got to pick the songs! He did my facepaint with glitter too, and then he let me help make a dessert pizza and it was _so good_.”

“Yes, I saw the leftovers in the fridge,” Chloe chuckles. “That’s why you’re having blueberries in your pancakes this morning instead of chocolate chips.”

“Totally worth it,” her daughter giggles happily. “Even if he _did_ make me wash my face and hands twice before he let me on the couch with him to finish the movie.”

Chloe laughs along with Trixie, imagining Lucifer’s dramatic response to a chocolate-and-marshmallow smeared child.

"You've got glitter on your face, Mommy," Trixie exclaims delightedly.

"Do I?" Chloe wipes her cheek distractedly, "I must have got it there when I kissed you goodnight." 

"I don't think so," Trixie seems far more smug than an almost 10-year-old has any business being. "I told you, Lucifer made me wash twice last night before he let me on the couch with him."

"Where would I get it from, then?" Trixie clearly has an idea that she's dying to share. 

"When Lucifer was doing my facepaint glitter, he made me laugh too hard, and I accidentally blew it all over his head... He tried to wash it off his face and neck, but he still had a bunch in his hair, and his beard..." Chloe feels her cheeks and neck heating up with a blush as her daughter grins at her triumphantly. "It's okay mommy, I already know."

"Know what, baby?" Chloe asks warily. 

"That you love him. I already told him that, but don't worry, I won't tell anybody else." 

"Oh... Well, I appreciate that sweetie. I told him that too, so it wasn't a secret or anything, but... We still have to talk about some things."

"That's okay," her daughter confides, "he's not going anywhere."

Dan arrives to pick her up not long afterward, and Chloe takes the time to finish up the syrup - coated dishes before slipping her boots on and eagerly heading to Lux.

************************

Lucifer emerges from his shower in a cloud of steam over an hour later, feeling vastly more relaxed after indulging himself a few times under the intense water pressure. He feels much more ready to face the day ahead- and the Detective- with, _well_ , a clear head. He smirks to himself as the pun crosses his mind. He wraps a towel around his waist after lightly running it over his hair. Here's hoping he managed to finally get all the glitter out...

He's surprised when he hears the elevator chime, he wasn't expecting the Detective quite this early.

"Luce? Are you here?" The curious voice calling out is _definitely_ not the Detective's, and his heart sinks a little in disappointment.

"I'm here, Eve," he responds reluctantly, "Fresh out of the shower, so I'll be a moment."

"Oh, no problem!" Comes the cheerful reply, "Maze sent me up for a mixing kit? She says she'll teach me to make cocktails today after we grab my stuff from the hotel!"

"A worthy way to spend a day," he agrees heartily. "I heard you two hit it off quite well last night?" 

"You can say that again!" He grins at himself in the mirror, he recognizes the huskiness of satisfaction ringing in her voice. "I can't find it, Luce, Maze said it was in the left hand cabinet under the bar?"

"Oh-" he curses under his breath, "Amenadiel likes to use it and he never puts it back properly. One moment, I think I remember where I saw it last." He grasps the towel tightly around his waist and traipses out to the bar where Eve is crouched in her white sundress, going through the cabinet. She looks up as he approaches, eyes taking him in appreciatively. He notices her sable hair is still wavy and damp, presumably from her own shower. 

"Wow, Luce, you look a lot better. Even better than you did in the Garden." 

"Oh, um, thank you?" He tightens his grip on the towel. He's never been self-conscious, but this state of undress with Eve isn't sitting right with him, not with Chloe so fresh on his mind. He finds himself wishing he'd grabbed his robe. He bends behind the bar and digs in a different cabinet until he finds the box with the equipment he's looking for. "The treatment worked really well."

"How are things going with your Detective?" she asks eagerly, "I didn't get a chance to talk to her much last night, I was a little... distracted."

"Were you, now?" he teases her wickedly, and she laughs gaily.

"Maze is wonderful, I can see why you two get on so well." Her gaze sharpens and she takes a deep breath. "I wanted to thank you, for all your help since I arrived. For setting me up with a place to stay, and being my friend. It means a lot to me. I know... You know I came back for you, hoping we could be... Together again. But, I want you to know that I understand that you don't want that. You have something now, with your Detective. And maybe you don't know what it is yet- and that's okay! But it's special, and I can see that it's... It's so good for you, Lucifer. I think... I think maybe Maze and I might be that for each other. Or at least, I hope we might be. There's a connection there."

He had tensed like a spring when she began her little speech, but slowly relaxes as she finishes with a sigh. 

"You're very welcome, Eve," he chuckles in relief. "I was a bit worried really, I didn't want to hurt you, and you're right, I have no idea what this is, with the Detective. But I'm hoping we'll be able to figure it out together. She's actually coming over a little later today so we can have a talk about, well, _us_." 

"Luce, that's so exciting!" Eve's face lights up and she leaps to hug him, squealing with childish glee. Her arms wrap around his neck and he laughs as he automatically catches and twirls her, accidentally releasing his towel as he does. It hits the floor with a soft thump as a strangled gasp comes from the direction of the lift. Eve's squeal had hidden the chime of the elevator doors, and he looks over her shoulder to lock with Chloe's tearful eyes as she backs through the doors and hits a button.

"Sorry," she mutters flatly, as the doors close between them. "Sorry, I should have called first."

************************

It takes Lucifer a moment to process what just happened. Eve notices the change in his demeanor, turns in time to see Chloe disappear into the lift and gasps in dismay when she realizes what passed. She retrieves Lucifer's towel and hands it to him, shoving him toward the lift.

"You have to go after her, right _now_!" 

"Eve, I can't go after her in a towel, she won't even speak to me!" He's fighting panic now, as he re-wraps it around his waist. "Oh, _Dad_ , we've both got wet hair, she probably thinks we just showered together, and - _bloody Hell_ , how do I fix this?!"

"Okay. Go get dressed, I'll go after her and see if I can catch her before she leaves!"

"Thank you!" he tosses back over his shoulder as he bolts for his closet. Eve doesn't wait for the elevator, but runs straight for the stairs, kicking off her heels so she can sprint down them faster.

*********************

 _This is my fault,_ Chloe berates herself. _I should have known better than to fall for him again. I just keep making the same mistakes, and he probably doesn't even care about me. He's the devil. What's he going to do Chloe, settle down in your quiet, boring little life with you and your daughter?_

Anger wars with betrayal, bitterness and devastation for space in her heart, while grief curls up wailing in its own little corner. As soon as she reaches the parking garage, she bolts for her car, cranking the ignition as hard as she can and squealing out of the space. She almost hears a voice that isn't Lucifer's calling her name, but doesn't pay any heed. She can't, the tears raging down her cheeks are making entirely too much noise.

******************

By the time the elevator doors chime again, Lucifer is fully dressed and anxiously pacing as he waits for them. When only a dejected-looking Eve emerges from the lift shaking her head, he sags bonelessly against the countertop.

"Oh , bollocks," he groans. "I've well and truly fucked it up now."

"This isn't your fault, Lucifer," Eve tells him quietly. 

"It most certainly feels like it is," he sighs. "Nothing for it now but to go to her apartment and hope she'll speak with me."

"What will you say?" 

"Well, I'll have to tell her the truth, of course, and- oh. Oh _shit_."

"What?" Eve's eyes widen in alarm at the panicked look spreading across his face. 

"I made a deal with Beatrice, the Detective's offspring, that the moment I figured out how I felt about her mother, that I would tell her."

"Okay. Kind of an odd deal to make with a kid, but..." 

"Beatrice is not a typical child." He almost smirks, but can't quite manage it. "My current dilemma is that I've only _just_ realized that... I love her. I love the Detective, and now I have to tell her, and she is not going to like this at all." 

She puts a supportive hand on his shoulder and he pats it despondently before stepping into the lift. Eve watches him go, heart heavy for her friend. Chloe seems like a good person, though, and Eve is certain that she'll hear him out.

Lucifer arrives at Chloe's apartment long before she does. He tried calling her and texting her but she's not answering, so he settles in to wait. He tries to decide what to say, how to present what he needs to tell her that won't repel her or infuriate her further... Because he's utterly certain she's about to relieve him of his promise to stay. His stomach twists with the all-too-familiar feeling of failure. He didn't get the chance to ask about modifying his promise to be able to stay on Earth, which means he'll be heading back to Hell. He'll have to ask Mazikeen to stay, if she's willing. He'd like Linda and Miss Lopez, and of course Chloe and the Urchin to have the benefit of her protection after he's gone. He's so caught up in his thoughts that Chloe nearly makes it inside before he spots her.

He bolts from the Corvette, calling her name desperately. He stops several meters away when he sees her flinch against her door frame.

"Please, Detective- Chloe, I... I really need to speak with you." 

"Lucifer," her voice is raspy, and wavers unsteadily. She doesn't turn to look at him, and it feels like a knife slipping between his ribs and twisting. "you don't owe me an explanation, or excuses for anything. I... I really don't want to talk to you right now."

"I understand, Detective," he commiserates desperately, "but I really do need -"

"No." Chloe finally turns to face him, her voice rock steady now, and he closes his eyes in defeat. "No, Lucifer, I'm done. I can't - I won't do this anymore. You need to go." 

"You want me to go?" He repeats hopelessly, dark eyes intent on hers. This is it, then. 

"Yeah. I can't talk to you right now. I need... I just need a break." 

"Very well, Detective." He murmurs, almost inaudible. "Could I ask you to let your offspring know, when you see her, that I figured it out too late?"

"Yeah, sure," she agrees listlessly, turning away to unlock the door. "See you around, Lucifer." 

The door closes between them with the finality of a casket, and he listens to the layers of locks as she fastens them. 

"No," he whispers to himself, devastated, "You won't, Detective. You will never set foot where I will be."


	25. It's... awful.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything hurts.

He stands on the walk for a long moment, breathing raggedly. His heartbeat seems to echo in his empty chest, and a cold mass settles in his stomach. He approaches the door quietly, resting his forehead against it, eyes closed.

“I love you, Chloe.” It’s neither whispered nor shouted, but the words ring with conviction nonetheless. He feels the weight of them as they drop from his lips like tears, irrevocable and laden with sadness. “But you deserve so much more than I ever could have offered.”

He doesn’t remember the drive back to Lux. He had considered leaving straight from the Detective’s door, but it would have been inconsiderate to leave the ‘Vette in her drive. Once he’s back at the penthouse, he settles at the piano. Melancholy music pours from his hands as his mind calmly runs through what needs to be done. He estimates he can complete everything today, then leave in the morning. He had already started the required paperwork for his departure while the Detective had been gone, so all that was left was signing and dating most of it. There are only a few non-business related notifications that need to be made. He briefly considers doing them in person, but he knows he doesn’t have the fortitude for it, he’s simply too raw.

He calls Mazikeen, but she doesn’t answer. He smirks half-heartedly to himself, _mixing cocktails indeed_.

“Hello Maze it’s me, Lucifer. I wanted to let you know I’ll be heading back to Hell tomorrow morning. I told you I would never leave without telling you, but… I rather hope you choose to stay and protect our friends here. If I don’t hear from you by then, I’ll assume you prefer to stay topside. If ever you change your mind, I’m sure Amenadiel would be happy to bring you. Be well, Mazikeen.”

He leaves a message on Dr. Linda’s office line, letting her secretary to know to cancel his future appointments. He signs a mountain of paperwork, squaring away his amassed assets, caching everything away until his next visit in a human lifetime or two. He sets up his “will” to take effect in a few months, literally signing his life away.

He writes letters to Beatrice, Miss Lopez, Linda, and to the new Lieutenant, tendering his resignation as a civilian consultant. Once written, he takes them down to the mail drop. It’s not even noon, they could arrive at their destinations as early as Monday. No one will likely miss him before then. He whiles away the afternoon at the piano, playing through the music in his mind. There is no music in Hell, or rather- what is there is warped, out of tune, and discordant. He pays extra attention to the feel of the ivory keys under his fingertips, the smooth weight of them, the pressure of the pedals against his feet. He savors a decanter of his favorite malt whiskey and smokes his way languorously through a box of Cuban cigars and the last of his best hash. When it’s late enough that his workers have arrived, he heads downstairs to make arrangements for the smooth operation of Lux in his absence. The club itself will go to Maze, with a portion of the profits being set aside in accounts for Beatrice and his brother. Dad knows he could use the help with his upcoming parenting responsibilities.

His workers seem genuinely saddened when he informs them of his departure, so he makes arrangements for a last-minute Lux party tonight, puts on a cheerful façade for them and leaves them laughing over a pre-shift drink (on the house, of course.) with a promise to come down and host the evening personally.

Back in the penthouse, he writes one more letter for Amenadiel. It’s more of a list, really- people he’s been keeping tabs on, either helping along or ensuring good behavior. He includes the new account information, and asks that he continue to watch over this short list as well as he can, preferably without too much direct interference. (Can’t have his devil’s reputation sullied by having his softer side exposed.) Amenadiel knows how to contact him if he has questions about the request, but Lucifer thinks he’s unlikely to hear from his brother again once he’s back where he belongs.

He empties another decanter, savoring the slow burn with every mouthful as he commits the complex flavors to memory for recollection over the coming millennia. _No sense leaving it all for Maze, she can restock with her favorites._ With that frame of mind, he methodically works his way through his liquor shelf, and consequently has a lovely buzz by the time he takes the lift down to Lux to get the party started properly.

He winds his way through his patrons to the piano and seats himself on the bench with a flourish. The music stops and the spotlight finds him, poised and grinning for his rapt audience.

“Good evening, everyone! I am so happy to have you here to celebrate my last night among you all- for a very, very long while. Let’s make it one to remember, eh?”

A resounding cheer rings out at his words, glasses lifted in a toast. He begins his set, pouring his heart into the music. His hands glide over the keys as his rich voice caresses the lyrics and he _glows_ under their attention. His eyes shine brightly, and no one looks closely enough to notice that the shine is from tears he will not allow to fall as he sings. When his set is complete the playlist starts up with a heavy beat, the spotlight shuts off and the club strobes come on, signaling the dancers to return to their stations and the patrons flock to the dance floor. Lucifer is everywhere, hands pull and caress him as he makes his way around the club, he dances with dozens of people, moving close, the heat and pressure of bodies overwhelming to anyone unused to Hell’s higher temperatures. His bartenders are too busy to keep up with his metabolism, however, and his pleasant buzz starts to fade after a few hours, leaving him empty and cold. There are no favors to distract him tonight, and he doesn’t let anyone near enough to suggest a visit to his bedroom. He mingles freely, yet remains apart from the crowd- an invisible barrier in place that no one can reach or cross. He takes one more lap around two in the morning, then manages to slip through the gyrating crowd to the lift, pressing the button to take him home one last time.

The soft yellow light inside the elevator car fills him with a grief so strong his knees nearly buckle. He’d deliberately chosen warm lighting for his penthouse and the levels associated with it, precisely because the light and atmosphere in Hell are primarily blue tones, usually stifled by fine layers of pale grey ash. The only thing warm in Hell is the temperature, but even the fires burn blue down there. The elevator chimes before he can start to hyperventilate, and he beelines for the bar, working his way through his third shelf of decanters until he builds his buzz back up to a comfortable level. He pulls out his phone and flips through his photo album, smiling sadly at the memories contained within. The various pranks played on the Douche. The Detective rolling her eyes at him as she stifles a smile. Miss Lopez’s wide-eyed excitement as she chats about whatever minutia currently holds her fascination. The good Doctor’s fondly exasperated expression. Beatrice from just last night, beaming next to him and proudly exhibiting her glittery face paint. He looks at that one last and longest, a pang of guilt strikes him that he hadn’t been able to keep his deal with the Urchin, though he tries to argue with himself that he had intended to, that he _did_ try. He couldn’t force the Detective to hear him, after all.

There are no missed calls or messages from Maze (or anyone else), and he quietly resigns himself to returning to Hell alone. It’s nearly four AM, and he briefly considers just leaving now… but he has one more shelf on his liquor wall to get through… and it’s the _top_ shelf. _Saving the best for last_ , he thinks to himself as pulls down the first decanter. He considers leaving a letter for the Detective, but… she already knows everything he would need to tell her – it was in the first set of videos she found just a couple of weeks ago. He’ll leave his phone so she’ll have the videos for reference if she needs the reminder. He pulls down another decanter, then a third, lining the empties up all in a neat row on the bartop, ready for Maze to restock with her own personal choices. His watch tells him it’s just past 6 AM as he slowly swallows his final mouthful from the final bottle, feeling pleasantly floaty as he surveys the place that has been his home- a _good_ home- for the past 8 years. He told Maze he would leave this morning, but he didn’t specify _when_ … so as long as he’s gone by noon, he’s still keeping his word. He stands from his stool, tipsy but steady on his feet as he moves to his bedroom, shedding his suit and letting it fall to the floor as he goes.

He falls into his silk sheets, reveling in the feel of the softness sliding against his bare skin. He buries his face in the pillow, turns to the side for easier breathing… and then he’s distracted. The pillow on the far side of the bed smells _amazing_ , and he gravitates to it like a moth to flame. He buries his face in it with a groan, remembering seeing the Detective curled into it yesterday morning, deep in her much-needed nap. He pulls it close and curls his body around it, absorbing as much of her scent as he can, wishing he could take it with him in some tangible form- not just mere memory. Even angelic memory fades… perhaps especially in Hell.

With Chloe’s scent surrounding him, he drops into the last peaceful slumber he’s likely to enjoy until he returns to Earth in a few hundred millennia. Nothing is peaceful in Hell, especially without Maze to guard his back. He dreams of the precinct, of stealing Dan’s pudding, visiting Ella in her lab, and sitting in his chair while Chloe goes over the file on their new case.

When Lucifer wakes, he finds the bag of his belongings from the hospital and rifles through it. _Damn, where is it?_ The shoe token he'd pilfered from his last game night before everything changed is gone. _Ah well, it likely would have been lost soon enough in Hell, anyway._ He briefly considers one final shower, but as he heaves in a sigh through his nose he catches the briefest whiff of Chloe’s scent on his skin and decides against it. He can take this with him, at least. It won’t last, of course, but… maybe he can pretend. He checks his phone. 11:30 AM. No missed calls.

_Time to go._

**********************

Chloe shuts the door without looking any closer at Lucifer’s desolate expression. Her trembling fingers slowly engage the locks before she backs against her entryway wall and slides down it. The sobs she managed to contain during the confrontation escape now in force, but she knows he’s still outside so she stifles them with her sleeve. Her eyes are on the tiny sliver of light shining in under the door, and she sees the shadow of his feet moving closer. A faint thump, a ragged breath just on the other side of the door, then-

“I love you, Chloe. But you deserve so much more than I ever could have offered.” His voice is low and clear, the words ringing with anguish and her heart tries to contract and expand at the same time, causing her to hiccough in misery. She huddles there in her entryway, silently watching the shadow at her door until it turns and slowly shuffles away. She listens to the motor of the Corvette flare to life, then fade as distance claims it, and still she sits, knees drawn up to her empty chest.

 _What just happened?_ She thinks to herself again. _Just a few hours ago we woke up tangled together and I needed to take a cold shower to even be able to function. Okay Decker, think about this._

What does she _know_? She knows that Lucifer doesn’t lie, and doesn’t believe that he’s worthy of being loved. That he’s risked his life for her… _died_ for her on multiple occasions. That just a few days ago they confessed to each other that they each wanted the other to choose them. She knows that he _trusted_ her enough to allow her to help him with handling very sensitive parts of his body, even after her enormous breach of faith. She knows that he had been subtly maneuvering since he’d left the hospital to avoid getting pressed into any kind of relationship with Eve without hurting her. She knows that he defended her (horrible) actions to her daughter, and sacrificed a Friday night to babysit. She knows that this morning wasn’t a fluke. And she _knows_ , with the fresh pain of nearly experiencing it, that she doesn’t want to think about what her life would be like without him in it.

 _All right. That’s a good starting point. Now, what did you_ **see** _?_ She doesn’t want to think about what she saw; it’s raw, and painful, and… she needs to see it again while it’s fresh in her mind, like walking a crime scene.

Lucifer’s face had held that tender, disbelieving look when she stepped out of the elevator doors- the exact expression she’d seen on those occasions when she’d been telling him what he meant to her, that she wanted him to stay, to be happy, to be loved. Eve had been mid-air, throwing her arms around his neck with an excited squeal and he had caught her before her body pressed against his, holding her away from him as he laughed and twirled her in a circle. As his hands caught her, the towel he had been holding in place comes loose and drops to the floor just as her involuntary gasp revealed her presence. When his eyes caught hers they lit up with happiness for an instant- before he read her expression and realized she was scrambling back into the elevator, desperately trying to get away. He looked confused for an instant before his eyes flicker to Eve, then to himself and the towel now resting in a heap on the floor. She had a moment to take in the tensing of his body, the look of horror dawning on his face as he took in her reaction before the doors sealed between them.

 _Okay Chloe, now_ **think** _. What else did you see? Or not see?_

Lucifer’s hair was still wet. Like, _wet_ wet, as though he’d literally been interrupted in the shower, or just stepped out of it. Eve’s hair was damp… but was mostly dry, like she’d showered previously. Hair that long takes time to dry, even with use of a dryer. Eve had been fully dressed, _and wearing makeup._ Definitely not a fresh-from-the-shower look. So whatever had happened, she didn’t walk in on them fresh from shower sex.

 _What else, Decker?_ Now it’s Maze’s voice in her head, pressing harder. _You got a_ **good** _look at the goods. What_ **didn’t** _you see?_ Chloe’s face flushes as she rewinds the scene in her head again, closing her eyes and studying it with fresh eyes, slowing everything down in her head to better observe. Lucifer’s smoothly muscled torso glints in the soft lighting of the penthouse, Eve’s arms slide around his neck and his hands automatically abandon what she can now see was a very tight grip on the waist of the towel in order to catch her and hold her deliberately away from his body. Eve’s hug is fast, she doesn’t linger in his space but pulls back to grin at him, as though he’s just shared some good news. The towel drops, and his eyes find her, and—Oh. _Oh._

Chloe pushes herself up from her huddled position against the wall and starts to pace, thinking furiously. Lucifer doesn’t lie. She _knows_ this. But if there’s one part of any man that is completely incapable of even the slightest subterfuge, it’s the part that lays between his legs. She closes her eyes again, all traces of embarrassment gone as she replays the scene in her head one more time. There it is. Or rather, isn’t. Until it is…

Chloe has seen Lucifer naked. Several times, by now. The first time she’d been too shocked to really… okay, no, that’s a lie. She’d definitely looked. But she’d still been shocked. He’d been partially aroused then. The second time, during the philanthropist case, not even a little arousal. She’d felt it pressed against her thigh this morning, seen the bulge he tried to hide as he fled. She compares those mental pictures with her image from the penthouse this morning- not a hint of arousal… Until his eyes had locked with hers.

 _Now_ her face flushes again, but this time it’s from embarrassment at her reaction. Fleeing the scene, refusing to allow any explanation, and sending him away… all completely teenage techniques in dealing with emotional turmoil. _Shit_. And after working so diligently to try to rebuild the trust between them. A frustrated sob bursts from between her gritted teeth, and a tear leaves a hot streak down her cheek, followed quickly by others.

 _How do I fix this?_ Ten steps to the wall, turn, ten steps back. _I’m not… I’m not calm enough to talk this through yet. I can’t, yet._

So, she does what she does best. She focuses on something else.

For the rest of the day she does anything she can to avoid lingering on the problem at hand. Laundry. Deep cleaning the baseboards. Clearing out the kitchen cabinets. She even tackles Trixie's room, unearthing a fossilized slice of chocolate cake from under the bed.

She carefully glosses over the stacks of drawings that prominently feature a certain devil. She moves the furniture and sweeps beneath it, rearranges Trixie's artwork on the walls, and then reorders her to-be-read pile based on date of purchase.

Finally, she manages to wear herself out physically to the point that she thinks she can go to sleep without worrying about what her brain will have to say when she stops moving. Thought and deed, however, are two very different things. She lays in bed reciting police codes to herself before she gives up entirely and goes to the kitchen, digging out the bottle of wine that she'd stashed there a while back and uncorking it. She nearly skips grabbing a glass, but the brief thought of Lucifer's expression if he caught her drinking straight from the bottle is enough to make her go back for one.

Three large glasses later, her mind is pleasantly swimmy and her eyes are sufficiently heavy. She crawls into bed and curls up in a tight ball facing the bedside table. Somehow, after a single night of him sleeping here beside her, the sheets smell like him. She gives up her internal battle and rolls to face the empty pillow next to her, laughing to herself as she spies the odd glints here and there that she now knows are flecks of glitter deposited from his adventures in babysitting. She nearly reaches for her phone to call him – he’s a nightclub owner, he’ll be up- but she stops her hand before it moves. She’s already approached him once when she was drunk. She can’t do it again, not with so much at stake. Instead, she buries her face in the glitter-infested pillow and breathes deeply, trying to pretend it’s him beside her and they’re already past all this… stupidity and finally _together_ where they belong. She drifts to sleep just in time to miss the creeping light of dawn.

She wakes to late afternoon light blazing into her retinas from the window, a mouth that tastes like something died inside it, and a head that feels as though sharp rocks have been tumbling inside it all night long. She groans in agony and buries her face back into the pillow for a moment before her protesting bladder forces her to get up and _move now_. She guzzles two cups of water and brushes her teeth three times before the death taste disappears, then drifts downstairs to make some coffee. She doesn’t care that it’s already 4 PM, coffee is mandatory. She pulls her phone off the charger and finds a couple of texts from Trixie- candid photos of whatever she and Dan are doing this weekend, one from Dan himself confirming that he’s keeping Trixie until Tuesday, and one from Ella, who is simply excited that Chloe’s coming back to work tomorrow and wanted to share that. Chloe responds to all three while her coffee is brewing, then pulls out the largest mug she has and fills it to the brim. She slurps it noisily as she moves to the bar, sitting and staring blankly into space as the caffeine slowly helps to overpower the massive hangover.

_It’s a very good thing I managed to do everything that needed done yesterday, because today is definitely a blanket and Netflix kinda day._

She refills her coffee mug and drops onto her couch, pulling up the movie adaptation of _Class of 3001_ and settles in for some cinematic high school poppycock. She snorts softly to herself at all the things the movie just doesn’t do justice to the books for, but enjoys it all the same. She remembers Lucifer’s desperation to find the killer so he could figure out how to overcome his own idea block, and wonders what that was about. Was there something deeper going on there, something behind the celestial scenes? _Probably. He’s not exactly a writer…I wonder what he was trying to brainstorm._ Her mental list of things to ask him about keeps getting longer. _I really should be writing these things down_.

She settles into her Netflix queue, just zoning out for the rest of the afternoon as the dull ache behind her eyes slowly clears. Her phone is strangely silent and she’s grateful for it, because it means Lucifer is giving her the space she asked for. Just before bedtime a reminder goes off, and she checks her phone, she had set it to nudge her to call Linda’s office and schedule a therapy session. She grimaces, but acknowledges that if Linda can make any sort of progress with Lucifer, she can surely handle Chloe’s issues. She calls the office number and simply leaves a message that she’s a new patient, and that Dr. Martin had asked her to call and schedule an appointment when convenient.

She stares at her phone for a long time before she sends the text.

**_Hey. Sorry I didn’t call sooner. I needed to get my head on straight, and today kind of got away from me. I’m ready to talk if you are. Can I stop by tomorrow after work?_ **

She watches for the dancing response dots, but nothing comes up. Maybe he’s busy. Or asleep. Shrugging, she plugs the phone back into the charger and rolls onto her side. She doesn’t even try to fight the urge to curl around “his” pillow and bury her face in it, glitter be damned.

********************

Monday morning starts sluggishly. Her eyes feel gummy as she peels them open, and the morning light outside seems watery and pale. She has a generalized uneasy feeling that she decides must be from the restless dreams she’d had last night. She can’t remember details any of them, only that she was surrounded by constantly falling snow, but it was _hot_. She stretches indulgently, flits downstairs to start her coffee brewing, then pops back up to go shower and get ready for work.

Walking back into the precinct is a relief, even if it does feel strangely off. She checks in with the new Lieutenant, and confirms that she’s on desk duty for at least the next few days. She answers the questions about Lucifer’s recovery as honestly as she can, but keeps her replies perfunctory and her boss is tactful enough not to press it too hard.

Ella meets her enthusiastically at her desk with a mug of precinct coffee, which Chloe gratefully accepts. It’s not the non-fat almond milk latte with sugar-free caramel drizzle the Lucifer always brings her, but it’s made the way she likes her regular coffee and Ella’s thoughtfulness is always appreciated.

“How’s Lucifer doing? Do you know when he’ll be back to work yet?” Ella’s enthusiasm is boundless, she’s been waiting impatiently to get her A-Team back in working order for far too long now.

“He went back to Lux this weekend. He… was doing pretty well last time I saw him, around midday on Saturday.” She’s reluctant to admit what had happened to her friend until she has a chance to clear the air with Lucifer.

“Did anybody check in with him yesterday?” Concern crosses Ella’s face at Chloe’s negative answer. “Well… he _is_ capable of taking care of himself now… I’m… sure he’s fine. Maybe I’ll just throw him a text to check in, though…” She pulls out her phone, already pulling up her messages to send it.

Chloe’s phone rings as the other woman walks away and she smiles, assuming it’s him responding to her text from last night. It’s not Lucifer, but it _is_ Linda’s secretary, letting her know they’d had a last-minute cancellation for midday today, if Chloe was available. She agrees, and makes a note to fill out the new patient questionnaire during her break this morning. She navigates to her messages while she waits for her laptop to boot up, and frowns when she sees that not only has Lucifer not responded to her message, he hasn’t even read it yet. She shrugs it off – it’s not the first time he’s ghosted her after an awkward encounter. She knows he usually has a session with Linda on Mondays somewhere around midday- the last two had been rescheduled due to… well… everything. Maybe she’ll run into him at the office before or after her own session.

The morning passes in a haze of arrest reports and filing, conversing with D.A.s regarding pending cases, and a brief break to complete Linda’s new patient questionnaire before she takes her lunch to attend her session. Linda seems surprised to see her in the waiting room when she comes to the door, but ushers her inside the office quietly.

“Hello, Chloe,” Linda smiles, gesturing to the couch. “I don’t mind today, but typically it’s not okay for patients to switch up sessions amongst themselves, okay?”

Chloe tilts her head at her friend (and now therapist), puzzled. “What are you talking about?”

“This is Lucifer’s regular session slot. Like I said, it’s okay for today, but we’ll need to-“

“I didn’t take Lucifer’s slot, Linda, your receptionist called me this morning and told me you’d had a last-minute cancellation and could fit me in today. I left a message yesterday about scheduling with you.”

“Hmm.” Linda’s eyebrows lift in surprise, but no further commentary escapes her. “All right then. How are you feeling today, Chloe?”

“Well… I don’t really know where to start, Dr. Martin. This is _all_ pretty new to me, and it’s… awful.”

“I understand you’ve had a _lot_ of revelations and changes lately, and that can be massively overwhelming. Do you want to start with… it’s all real?”

“You know,” she laughs a little bit, shaking her head. “for whatever reason, that seems to be the thing I’m having the _least_ problems with. It was a huge thing at first, and maybe it will be again later… but for right now my state of mind is basically: ‘it’s real, it’s always been real, nothing’s going to change about that just because I know about it now.’ Does that make any sense at all?”

“I think you’re right that it may wind up being more of an issue later as you start to process the rest of it some more, but _for now_ compartmentalizing is a decent way to break down and prioritize your needs. What are your top priorities for issues you wanted to discuss today?”

“I was hoping we might start by discussing what theories you might have on this angelic actualization idea… and then I was hoping to run something by you that happened this weekend between Lucifer and me.”

“Okay. It’s as good a place to start as any, but I’m afraid I don’t know much- only what I’ve observed.” Linda proceeds to cover most of what she’s already been told by Raphael, Amenadiel, and Lucifer. “All I can really say, Chloe, is that it seems to be, at best, a double-edged sword. It can do amazing things, like giving Lucifer his wings back, but it can also be incredibly disadvantageous, like Lucifer’s resulting vulnerability around you.”

“So you think that’s self-actualization, too!” Chloe exclaims. “God told me it wasn’t his doing, but that he was sure Lucifer didn’t realize he was doing it to himself. I’ll admit I was really worried that it meant it he was suicidal- but Lucifer assured me that isn’t the case.”

“Hmm,” Linda hums, but doesn’t say anything more.

“Well, okay… Maze told me about the time he _did_ kill himself when he went to Hell to get the antidote during my poisoning scare… and then there was that sniper incident…”

“Sniper incident?”

“Yeah, it was… you know what… I haven’t asked him what the deal was there, yet. I should probably talk to him about it first.”

“Oookay, then.” Linda shakes her briefly, switching gears. “I’m afraid I don’t have any good suggestions for you on how you can potentially control whatever self-actualization you might be capable of. It seems to only respond to truly deep-seated subconscious desires or needs, or at least – a want so deep that it becomes a physical need that must be fulfilled, like when Amenadiel temporarily regained his control over time to save my life, or when he regained his wings when he felt he _needed_ to escort Charlotte to Heaven.”

Chloe’s eyes tear up a little at that. Charlotte worked hard for her redemption, and Chloe figures if anyone deserves a personal escort to the pearly gates, Charlotte did.

“On to your second topic of choice for today, then- you had some kind of incident this weekend with Lucifer?”

“Yes, well… a couple, I guess.” Chloe’s cheeks burn red and she fidgets on the couch. “Oh, God -um- argh, this is gonna be so awkward, but okay. Here we go.” She pulls in a deep breath as Linda regards her steadily. “I’ve been… sleeping with Lucifer since we got him out of the hospital. _Literally_ sleeping, Linda, nothing else. At first it was because I was kind of his ice pack, keeping the effects of the poison at bay until his brothers could come up with something to treat him.” Chloe pauses, and Linda nods encouragingly.

“After the treatment, we were both unconscious and it just made sense for us both to be in the same room, it made it easier for Amenadiel to keep an eye on both of us. After that, it was… more of a comfort thing. He was so chilled after the treatment and I was running a fever and it just… worked really well to snuggle up together and even each other out, you know?”

“You don’t have to make excuses to me… or yourself, Chloe,” Linda points out gently. “You’re both consenting adults.”

“I tried to sleep apart from him Wednesday night, when we moved back to my apartment after his treatment. I had a nightmare about something happening to him and wound up back in his room again.”

“Nightmares are a completely normal part of processing traumatic events.”

“When I got home from our night out on Friday, Trixie was curled up on the couch with him, and they were both passed out. I mean… the picture I got was just…” she clears her throat, “Anyway. I’ll show you that later. I woke him up and he was going to go back to Lux and I just…I couldn’t let him go. So he stayed, and we slept in _my_ bedroom.”

“Rather than the guest bedroom, where you both had been sleeping.” Chloe nods, confirming.

“When we woke up Saturday morning, we were… um, tangled. We didn’t fall asleep that way, it just… happened. We were both half-asleep and we kind of had a… really hot make-out session.” Her cheeks flush an even deeper crimson and Linda very carefully does _not_ smile at her friend, keeping her expression neutral.

“And then?”

“And then… suddenly we were both completely awake and he was pulling away and apologizing and he was out the door before I could barely get two words out.”

Linda closes her eyes for a moment and counts to five. Then she does it again. “That would be the first incident, then? There’s another?”

“Yeah…”

“And it’s linked to this one?”

“Well, I guess it kind of is, yeah. He told me before he left that he wanted us to have a conversation about… about us. Where we stand. And he said he wanted to talk about his promise, but I don’t know which one he meant.”

“You don’t know? You didn’t have the discussion?”

“Um, no. The other, uh, incident kind of got in the way…” Linda simply watches her, silently encouraging her to continue. “I went over to Lux around midday. He knew I was coming by, but I didn’t call to let him know I was on my way, he had just said he’d be around and to come when I could.” Chloe swallows, really not wanting to relive this humiliating failure yet again… with an audience this time. “So I went, and um, the elevator opened just in time for me to see Eve giving him a really excited hug, and he had very obviously just gotten out of the shower- he let go of the towel around his waist to catch her, and it fell off just as he spotted me and, I uh, I ran. Away.”

“You walked in on them hugging?” Linda asks quietly, trying to set the scene in her mind.

“No, not like- I walked through it in my head later, once I’d had some time to cool down and _think_ , and that’s not what was going on, but… She was jumping at him, and then he was naked and I just reacted badly. Again. Later, when I'd had some time to think about it I... realized that I hadn't seen what I first thought I'd seen.”

"What did you realize?"

"That... that I didn't walk in on them having an intimate moment at all. Eve was acting like... like he'd just shared some good news, and when she hugged him, he caught her and was holding her _away_ from his body. His eyes- when he first noticed me, he looked so _happy_ for a second before he read my reaction to what was happening, and... I noticed, when the towel fell, he wasn't... he hadn't _reacted_ to her, physically."

“So what happened?” her voice is low, concerned.

“Well, I ran, like I said,” Chloe admits abashedly. “I just- I drove around for a while, not really going anywhere but not wanting to go home yet. Trying to air out my head a little, I guess. By the time I got home, Lucifer was there waiting for me, but… I didn’t want to hear whatever he had to say. I hadn’t had time to think it through yet. So, I told him to leave.”

Linda goes utterly still. “Chloe, this is really -maybe even vitally- important. Can you recall that conversation? Can you recount it for me?”

“I think so? I mean, probably not word for word, but-“

“As closely as you can, Chloe. Please. I think it’s crucial.”

“Okay.” Chloe swallows, and gives the play-by-play as best she recalls it.

 _" ‘Please, Detective- Chloe, I... I really need to speak with you.’_ He said.

I knew he was really serious- he hardly ever uses my name, but I couldn’t… I couldn’t even look at him, because if I did I felt like I would just crumble into pieces right there on my front walk. I told him, ‘ _you don't owe me an explanation, or excuses for anything. I really don't want to talk to you right now.’_

He didn’t want to go. _‘I understand,’_ he said, _‘but I really do need –‘_

I wouldn’t even let him finish his sentence. _‘No, Lucifer, I'm done. I won't do this anymore. You need to go.’_

_‘You want me to go?’_

_‘Yeah. I can't talk to you right now. I need... I just need a break.’_

_‘Very well, Detective.’_ Then he asked me to tell Trixie that he’d figured it out too late. Linda? You okay?”

“Have you spoken to him since then?” Linda’s eyes are closed, her shoulders drawn in and tense.

“No, I… told him I’d see him around and then went inside. I heard him come up to the door, and… and he said he loved me, but that I... that I deserved more than he could offer. He stood at the door for a minute, but he didn’t knock or speak again. Then he left.”

“And you haven’t heard from him since then?” Linda presses now, more urgently.

“No? I sent him a text last night letting him know I was ready to talk when he is, I was going to stop by Lux this evening after work since Dan has Trixie until tomorrow. Why? Linda, what’s wrong?” Chloe’s anxiety climbs as she notices her usually imperturbable friend is worried.

“Nothing, I hope.” Linda murmurs quietly. “Just… the promises you mentioned earlier – what were they?”

“Well, I don’t know which one he was talking about. He’s been clinging to that ‘promise’ he made to go back to Hell so I’d feel safe enough to come back to LA… but I made him promise to stay.”

Linda grimaces. “And what were the terms of that second promise?”

“I asked him to stay with me.”

“Until you send him away?”

“I certainly didn’t say that.”

“But is that how he _took it?”_ Linda knows full well it is, he spoke to her about it on Friday, and his hope that Chloe would allow him to amend his promise to leave Earth… but it doesn’t sound like they got the chance to have that conversation at all.

“I don’t – No. There’s no way.” Chloe laughs, but her throat is too tight so it comes out sounding deranged. “There’s no way he’d go back to _Hell_ just because I told him to go away. He _hates_ it there.”

“I hope you’re right, Chloe,” Linda’s eyes meet hers, and they’re shadowed with doubt. “I really hope you’re right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. I promise I don't like it any more than you do! If you'd like to yell at me some more, c'mon over to Tumblr and find me, I'm DoctorCastielScamander . I'll have the next chapter as soon I've got it written! We've still got a ways to go, my friends.


	26. This Is All My Fault

Ella is pacing at her desk when she returns to the precinct. She’s clutching a neatly folded piece of paper to her chest, and her eyes are red-rimmed as though she’s been crying.

“Ella? Are you-?”

“What is this?” The paper is thrust at her abruptly. She catches it, pulling in a sharp breath at the papercut from the crisp edge of the thick page.

“I don’t know?”

 _“Read it.”_ Ella hisses malevolently. She stares at her normally cheerful friend in surprise, and unfolds the page slowly. She recognizes the ornate handwriting immediately.

**My Dear Miss Lopez,**

**My apologies, first and foremost, for not having the strength to give this to you in person. I’ve been released of my promise to stay, and now it’s past time for me to follow through on my promise to return to where I belong.**

**Your friendship has meant the world to me, Miss Lopez, and I don’t merely mean the help you’ve provided both in Vegas and with helping with my ‘creepy non-grave grave’ situation. My regard for you is as fond as the one I have for my favorite little sister (you know the one). Please let her know that I’ve gone when you see her next, I wouldn’t want her to think I’m avoiding her. I have truly enjoyed our many conversations and, please don’t tell anyone or my reputation will be ruined, but your enthusiastic hugs have been a balm to my raw heart at times.**

**I’m terribly sorry that I won’t be available to answer the thousands of questions I know are swimming in that sciency little brain of yours. I feel quite sure that Azrael or Amenadiel would be willing to answer them for you… though it may be best to speak to Azrael first. Amenadiel still has some notions that divinity and humanity should remain apart… though I feel that recent developments may have changed that a little for him. Perhaps you can help him overcome it.**

**I will remember you fondly, and as I told you once before, I will miss you deeply. Thank you, Ella Lopez, for bringing your brand of sunshine into my dark life and being my friend.**

**Deepest Regards,**

**Lucifer Morningstar**

Chloe reads the letter, then reads it again. Looks at the date at the top of the page. _If he mailed this… he must have written it the moment he got back to Lux. Could he really have -?_ She’s driven from her thoughts by a shoe colliding with her shoulder.

“What happened? _¿Qué le hiciste? ¿Por qué le harías daño de nuevo? ¡Él te quiere, estupida--!_ ” Ella’s crying again, her voice getting louder as she rains blows around Chloe’s shoulders with her shoe. Chloe doesn’t even try to defend herself or respond, she’s locked in the memory from their confrontation on Saturday.

 _“You want me to go?”_ He’d sounded so desolate – now she knows why. She sentenced him without even allowing him to speak for himself – _just like his father had._

“Hey! _What_ is going on here??” Suddenly, Ella is pulled away, wrapped securely in Dan’s arms as she struggles to get back at Chloe.

She blinks and a tear falls onto the letter, beading up and trembling over his signature before sinking into the thick parchment. She notices idly that the papercut on her finger has already healed. Dan is dragging Ella into her lab, and the small woman is not making it easy for him. They’ve attracted quite the audience in the bullpen, and the Lieutenant chooses that moment to come to his office door and bark “Decker! My office!”

Feeling as though she can’t breathe, Chloe turns and walks mechanically toward him, allowing him to usher her inside.

“I received a letter of resignation from your consultant today,” he begins without preamble. “I thought you said he was recovering well?”

“He is. Was. He’s had a few complications, but… I think he’s worried about me being stuck with a partner that’s not at 100%. Please, sir – I’d like to respectfully request that you defer processing his resignation until he’s fully recovered, and I’ve had a chance to speak with him.”

The Lieutenant drums his fingers on his desk as he considers her request. “I’m new here, Decker, so I can’t pretend to understand what the workplace dynamic here is yet, especially where you’re concerned. I can’t deny you’ve got the highest solve rate of any of my active teams right now, and from the files I’ve seen your consultant has played a decent role in that. He’s certainly proven his loyalty to _you_ as a partner, though he seems to have been utterly useless in the field until you came back. If his were a paid position, I would have let him go the moment I came to this position. Based on your previous record with him, I’m willing to sit on this for one week. We’ll re-evaluate then, shall we?”

“Thank you, sir.” Chloe doesn’t allow her voice to tremble with relief.

“You seem like a good cop, Decker, despite your blighted record. You’ve got a rep for taking on corruption without flinching, and that’s not an easy thing… but it doesn’t win you many friends on the force. I’d rather not assign you a new partner until I have to… so let’s just keep you on desk duty until we re-evaluate your consultant’s return.”

“Yes, sir,” Chloe sighs. “That’ll be fine.”

“Dismissed, Decker. Send Espinoza in, please.”

Dan is still in the lab, in a heated discussion with Ella. She catches his eye through the glass wall, and motions for him to come out. He nods, throws some words back at Ella over his shoulder, and comes to her.

“Yeah?” he’s still tense, voice terse.

“Lieutenant wants you, you’re probably going to be heading up any cases that would have come to me this week, I’m on desk duty for at least that long.”

“Oh.” He deflates a little, “Chloe, I – “

“It’s fine, Dan. Desk duty will be good for me this week, I’ve got other things to keep my mind occupied right now, and at least I’m guaranteed to be off work on time so I won’t need to worry about getting coverage for Trixie.” She knows he’s been eager to get a leg back up to his prior position, and it speaks well for him that he seems a little reluctant to take it if means a setback for her.

“Okay Chlo’, I’m going in.”

“Good luck,” she gives him a half-hearted smile, Ella’s letter still clutched tightly in her hand. She glances up in time to see Ella’s accusing eyes just as she snaps the blinds shut, effectively sealing off the lab from view.

The rest of the day passes in a haze. She spends it going through financial records, perusing witness statements, and trying to fend off bouts of tears when fielding questions from her co-workers on Lucifer’s recovery status. Word must spread quickly, because as the day passes more and more people are giving her a wide berth. Either that, or Ella has spread the word that she’s a horrible person… but the looks she’s intercepting are more pitying than angry – and she has _no_ doubt that if her co-workers thought she’d done something horrible to Lucifer the looks would be more than angry.

It should be strange to her, that the Devil is so well-loved here… but it isn’t. He’s so adept at making people feel good about themselves, encouraging them to follow their hearts’ desires, and often helping to make those desires come true. He _cares_ about the people he likes, and shows it without fail. He’s typically warm and friendly… until someone gives him a reason _not_ to be… and even then he’s often quick to forgive if he can see a reason behind whatever behavior was offered.

She gathers her gear at the end of the day, glancing again at the darkened lab. Ella had left about twenty minutes ago, snatching her letter as she stalked past Chloe’s desk without actually acknowledging her presence. The unsettled feeling of ‘something wrong’ that’s been present since Saturday has gotten progressively worse now that she’s fairly certain just _what_ is wrong.

She checks her phone yet again when she gets to the car. Message still unread, unanswered. She’s tried to call several times, but all went to voicemail. She buckles her seatbelt and heads for Lux.

***********************

She’s not sure what she expected to find, but what she _does_ find is certainly disconcerting. The elevator doors open on the penthouse level and she encounters a crowd of upset people having a loud discussion that stops abruptly the moment she enters.

She blanches as she’s greeted with the accusing stares of her friends, Linda, Ella, Maze, Amenadiel, even Eve is present, though she mostly just looks sad.

“Spill it, Decker,” Maze has her knives out, spinning them restlessly in her fingers. “Eve told us what she knows about Saturday. He left me a message saying he was going back… but I didn’t listen to it until today. _What did you do.”_

Chloe looks at Linda, who shakes her head slightly. She hasn’t told them anything, of course. Her confidentiality is absolute. She swallows, her mouth suddenly dry – and that’s when she notices all the empty bottles lined up neatly on the bar. The liquor shelf is completely barren. _Did he drink it all before he left?_

“When… I got back to my apartment he was there waiting for me. I, um, drove around the city for a while before I went home. He wanted to talk, but I was too upset, I told him I couldn’t talk then, and I… told him to go.”

“Chloe,” Eve begins tentatively, “You – it wasn’t what you thought, I _promise!_ He… I only came up for the mixing shaker and kit, and then I couldn’t find it and he came to help me look and he… he told me that you were coming to talk about… about the two of you and I was so happy for you guys and it was just really terrible timing and-“

 _“You want me to go?”_ That heartbroken expression. How many times had she tried to convince him she wanted him to stay, to choose to be happy, to choose to be _with her_ … and a single, thoughtless phrase at exactly the wrong moment undoes all of it effortlessly.

“I know, Eve. I figured it out after… after I told him to go, and closed the door in his face.” She blinks back her tears, she doesn’t deserve that luxury now. “When did he leave?”

“I talked to Patrick, he told me he hosted a ‘last night on Earth’ party at Lux Saturday night. His message said he was leaving Sunday morning.” Maze’s lip curls as she shoots Chloe a look of disgust. “He told the employees that he’d needed some time to get his affairs in order, or he would have been gone already.”

Amenadiel moves to the bar and points at some envelopes. “This one contains his will. He’s made an account for Trixie, that profits from Lux will be deposited into regularly. You’re on the account as well, Chloe.”

“What’s in the other envelope?” A sick feeling is rising in her stomach, creeping its way up her throat.

“It’s a letter for me. A list of people he’s been surreptitiously watching and helping along as needed. He’s asked me to continue doing so in his absence.”

“How… what do we do to get him back?”

“He’s _gone_ , Decker. Nobody makes him do something he doesn’t want to do.”

“Of course he wants to come back. He _hates_ Hell, and he doesn’t even have to be there anymore!”

Amenadiel gives her a confused glance before looking at Maze, whose expression is _furious_.

“He is the _King of Hell_ , Decker, it’s where he’s _supposed_ to be.”

“That’s not what God told me,” she retorts angrily, and the room is suddenly silent.

“Father said that Lucifer doesn’t need to be in Hell?” Amenadiel repeats incredulously.

“He said that once Lucifer’s initial duties were completed, he didn’t _need_ to be there. That his banishment was never meant to be permanent.”

“You didn’t mention this during our first conversation after you woke up, Chloe.”

“No. It seemed personal. I did tell Lucifer,” she offers hesitantly. “But that doesn’t answer my question: How do we get him _back?”_

“If he’s made up his mind to go… I don’t know that we _can,_ Chloe. You know how stubborn he can be.”

“No _way_.” Ella bursts out. “This is _not_ happening, my best friend is absolutely _not getting stuck in Hell_ because he’s stubborn. We just lost Charlotte, I can’t… we can’t lose him too…”

Linda puts an arm around Ella’s shoulders reassuringly. “Amenadiel’s right about the stubbornness, though… how do we go about convincing someone who has literally out-stubborned _God_?”

“I have to go get him.” The idea falls into Chloe’s head, and she immediately grasps it with all her might. There’s a moment of deafening silence as all eyes in the room turn to her.

“What?” “How?” “You can’t even-“ Everyone begins to speak at once, to be interrupted with a ringing,

“No.” Amenadiel speaks with quiet authority, his expression smooth and imperturbable.

“It’s the only way. I’m _just_ as stubborn as he is –“

“You don’t say,” Linda mumbles under her breath, but Chloe ignores it, plowing onward.

“- and I _know_ I can convince him. How do I get there?”

“Oh, that’s easy Decker,” Maze spits angrily, “you just have to feel guilty when you die.”

Chloe resolutely ignores her, puts anything from her mind that’s not actively involved with her current goal: _Getting Lucifer back_.

“Amenadiel, God told me he put you in charge of making sure Lucifer stayed in Hell until his duties there had been completed, so you can go there, right? Take me to him, please.”

Four pairs of pleading eyes find their way to the dark-skinned angel in their midst, while one pair of enraged demon eyes stays pinned on Chloe.

“I can’t take you there, Chloe,” his expression is apologetic, but his tone is firm. “You’re human, and alive. You can’t cross the dimensional barrier.”

“Are you sure?” she presses, “I’ve got Lucifer’s old divinity – wouldn’t that protect me?”

His brow wrinkles as he considers. “I don’t know, Chloe. There’s no way to safely test it. And besides that… even if I _did_ take you there and you survived- Lucifer would be _furious_. He doesn’t want you anywhere near Hell.”

“I don’t want _him_ anywhere near Hell, so that works out well,” her eyes flash angrily, and for a moment he almost thinks they glimmer red.

“You should have _thought about that_ before you told him to go away!” Ella explodes tearfully, and Chloe wilts a little.

“You’re right,” she admits, and her throat seems to close off. She clears it, and continues. “I didn’t think about what I said, or how it might be received. I was too wrapped up in my own head to consider who I was speaking to, and I hurt him _again_.”

“This is all my fault,” Eve mumbles miserably, her shoulders hunching. Maze loops a protective arm over her shoulders and glares at Chloe.

“It’s not your fault, Eve,” Chloe sighs. “I misread the situation, reacted badly, and refused to listen when he tried to explain the circumstances. Unfortunately, it’s not the first time I’ve done so… and I can only hope that he’ll forgive me – again.”

"Eventually your nine lives are gonna run out, Decker. Maybe you should just leave him the _hell_ alone."

"Maze, I know Hell is your home, but... You can't really want him to stay there when it makes him so unhappy? And alone?" Linda adds reasonably.

"I'd go back," Maze argues, but there's no fire in her voice now. "But he did say he wanted me to stay here to protect everyone..."

"But if he doesn't have to be the King of Hell... Wouldn't he be happier here? Don't you want that for him?"

Maze grumbles, unwilling to admit there's anything wrong with her home, but knowing full well that Lucifer hates it there.

"Amenadiel, if you won't take me... Will you please at least go, and ask him to come back?"

He looks at the imploring gazes facing him, and knows he has to try. He doesn't believe Lucifer belongs in Hell anymore, but he also doesn't believe that his brother is going to change his mind, now that it's been made up. He nods in agreement.

"I won't be long." The angel moves to the balcony and out of sight of the room before unfurling his wings and departing.

***********************

Lucifer drifts. His Father had been right, of course, Hell didn't _need_ him here. There is nothing to set right, no backlog of anything to catch up on, or pressing cases of torture that need to be tended. Which means he's perfectly free to wallow. Only he can't do that openly because showing emotional weakness here would be an open invitation for nonstop assassination attempts, just on the sheer bragging rights for the demon that could bring down the Devil.

So he rebuilds his walls, brick by emotional brick, mortaring up the cracks he's managed to chip out during his time on Earth. The time when he was trying to be good, to be worthy of love, to be something other than what he is _... Poison_. He speaks to no one, unless there's no way to avoid it. He kills any that approach him with malevolent intent, and in time the demons remember the dangers of having a resident archangel in Hell.

He drifts, never lingering long in one place. Sometimes he flies, the ash lodging between and underneath his feathers, but the illusion of freedom that flight brings is almost worth the constant irritation of the grating ash against the sensitive skin there.

If he's not flying, he might be exploring the flaming sulfur flats, or the jagged obsidian shoreline of the magma sea. Sometimes, if he's truly missing Earth, he delves into a Hell loop for a break.

Hell loops are limited, in that they can only offer what the occupant experienced in life, but throughout his eons here he's found a few that aren't altogether horrible _all_ the time. As long as one doesn't emotionally invest in the outcome for the occupant of the Loop, some of them can be downright pleasant.

He spends a fair amount of time in a particularly warm patch of sun in a meadow at the very edge of a loop dating around the Salem Witch Trials. Somewhere not too far, one of the judges is having his own mother drowned for being suspected of practicing witchraft. From where Lucifer lays, he can barely hear the splashing and the murmuring of the crowd, and he only notices the loop resetting by the slight adjustment of the position of the sun.

It's not real, of course, the sunlight doesn't provide any real warmth, and the turning leaves move in a parody of being wind-tossed, but there is no actual refreshing September breeze here. And yet, he manages to find a small sense of peace in the memory of these things, which is why he keeps returning here.

This is the loop he's exiting when a demon timidly approaches, several hundred years after he left Earth less than two days ago.

"My King," the demon bows, and Lucifer snorts at the empty title. "There is an angel here asking for you."

"Is there," he replies dully. If he hadn’t been visiting a loop, he would have been able to feel the arrival of a divine being in his realm. Well, his _former_ realm. Divinity always causes a noticeable ripple in the hellish atmosphere. "Well bully for him. Or her, I suppose."

"Shall I bring him to you?"

Lucifer glances at the door behind him. It's as good a place as any to talk, he's been avoiding the Black Palace.

"Do. Make it quick, I have places to be." He doesn't, but no one needs to know that. The demon scuttles off and Lucifer makes a point not to fidget as he waits. He makes a game out of counting how many ash flakes he can get to settle on the tip of his nose where he can still see them until the demon finally returns what feels like eons later, Amenadiel in tow.

"Well, brother, welcome to Hell. Won't you step into my office?" He opens the door to the loop, dismissing the escorting demon with a glance as they step inside. They walk through the glade, past the amassed crowd and sputtering victim until they come to his peaceful retreat once more." I don't like having conversations in the corridors. What brings you, brother?"

"Luci, come home." He delivers the request earnestly, and Lucifer can almost believe its sincere. "Chloe told us that you don't have to be here. Come back to Earth and... be happy for once!"

"There is no joy left on Earth for me, Amenadiel. Being happy is not for the likes of me. " He lets his haughty mask slip, revealing the barren wasteland of pain hidden below it. "My promised time is not yet elapsed, so here I will remain until it has. I will not break my word... It's all I have left."

"Chloe wanted to come after you herself, Lucifer. She asked me to bring her."

"And you wisely told her to sod off, good show."

"She told us that she figured out she'd misread the situation once she had time to think it over, and that she knows she reacted badly-"

"Yes, it's rather turning into a habit for her." He snips dejectedly. "I do hope Doctor Linda can help her break out of that before it causes her some real problems."

"You think your being here because of a misunderstanding isn't a problem for her?"

"It's not a misunderstanding, brother, she told me to leave, I left. As requested. It really doesn't get simpler than that, does it?" Lucifer starts walking back toward the loop door, Amenadiel following alongside.

"But that's not what-"

"I'm afraid you're not going to convince me to break my word, brother. You've done your part, a true gold star for effort. Now, don't you have a budding offspring to return to? I'll save you the guilt from not visiting: You needn't bother to return unless you come across questions for those requests I left you. Safe flight home now, ta."

And he shoves his brother out the door, closing it firmly behind him.

*****************************

Chloe picks up Lucifer's phone, more to avoid the eyes of her friends than to actually do anything with it, but she finds herself opening the gallery with the videos again. There's a new one. The thumbnail shows a very mussed Lucifer, frozen running his fingers through his hair the way he does when he's truly stressed. _I can't watch this now._

She shuts off the screen and pockets the phone, just as the whisper of wings announces Amenadiel's return. She glances up, surprised and hopefully seeking a second figure, but the angel's shoulders are slumped in regret.

"I'm sorry, everyone. He wouldn't come. He says his time isn't up yet, and he refuses to break a promise. He told me I 'needn't bother to return unless I had questions about his requests', then dismissed me." He's a little disgruntled about being sent away like a minion, but mostly disappointed that his failure was so complete. He's never seen his brother look so... defeated.

The look on Chloe's face mirrors that. She hunches a little, eyes closed as though someone has punched her in the gut.

The angel eyes Linda warily. Could she have that kind of power over his happiness? He knows he's always happier when he's with her, but... If she pushes him away would he descend into despair the way Lucifer has? He doesn't think so... He did spend years in Heaven when he took Charlotte there a couple months ago, and while he was happy to see Linda when he returned, he hadn't felt desolate when they were apart.

"Did he say anything else?" Chloe whispers weakly

"Not much else," Amenadiel prevaricates.

"What else did he say."

"He said that there's no joy for him here, that... That happiness was not meant for the likes of him."

"He still thinks of himself as poison." Chloe murmurs, just loudly enough to barely be heard. "Dammit. I've got to fix this. How long has it been for him down there, Amenadiel?"

"I don't know, Chloe."

She transfers the question to Maze with a raised eyebrow.

"If he left yesterday morning... At least a few hundred years. Maybe half a thousand."

"And that's not long enough?" Ella asks, aghast. Chloe feels the blood drain from her face, and places her hand on the cool bartop to brace herself.

"Depends on the promise, I guess."

“What did he say in the video, Chloe?” Linda presses urgently, “Do you remember what he said?”

“He said… that he would leave so we would be safe from him, and that he wouldn’t return during my or Trixie’s lifetimes.” That video is indelibly burned into her mind with the fiery brand of guilt. _Oh God, Trixie. She is never going to forgive me for this._ Chloe takes in the people around her. Eve is crying now, and Ella’s not far from it. Linda looks as though she’s at her best friend’s funeral. Maze just looks _pissed,_ which, knowing Maze means she’s hiding a million other emotions below that. Amenadiel looks a little lost, which is understandable- as far as she’s aware, he’s never been on Earth without Lucifer present.

She feels a familiar warmth blooming in her empty chest. It fills her and she strains to hold it in. _Not here,_ she thinks to herself desperately. _We’ll waste too much time if I do it here._

“I’ve got to go,” she manages to strangle out, staggering toward the elevator doors. “I… I can’t be here right now.” The others in the room gape after her, but she can’t spare a thought for them, she’s too busy holding herself together at the seams.

**********************************

She reaches her apartment in a haze of sparkling kaleidoscopes behind her eyes, and fumbles with her keys until she manages to gain entry.

“I’m going, I’m going!” she mutters to herself, to the light inside her. “I know, _you_ want him back, too.”

She tries to decide if she should try to bring anything… but she’s pretty sure her gun and badge are going to be useless where she’s trying to go. She steps out onto the darkened back porch and closes her eyes, reaching inwardly for that light, the aching warmth that feels like _Lucifer_. She touches it and it responds, brightening like the stars above her. She cups her mental hands around it, and whispers to it- explaining what she needs to do, what she needs it to _help her do_. She feels some of the energy break free, bursting from her in a flare like a cape. No, not like a cape – like… wings. She opens her eyes in shock, twisting her head to each side. She can see nothing but a faint shimmer in the air, just the slightest disturbance, like glimmering, rippling heat waves over pavement baking in the sun. She can’t see them, but she can _feel_ them, their spectral weight as she folds them against her back.

 _Will this work? Can I fly with… not-quite-wings?_ She gives them an experimental flap, and while she feels them move, she doesn’t feel a breeze from them, nor do her feet offer to leave the ground. She thinks for a moment, her ghostly wings twitching restlessly behind her. She vaguely remembers Amenadiel talking about Lucifer retaining his metaphysical wings even after cutting off his physical ones. So… clearly her wings aren’t physical -which is probably a good thing, since she really doesn’t have time for flight training right now. But… he also talked about crossing a _dimensional_ barrier. So… it’s not like she _needs_ to fly up or down to get where she’s going, she just needs to use the wings as what? A key? The impatient light inside her flares at that thought and she takes it a sign that she’s got the right idea.

“Okay,” she murmurs to herself, closing her eyes and feeling really stupid to be talking to the light eagerly filling her. “I have no idea what I’m doing, so… help me out here. Take me to him. Take me where Lucifer is.”

She experiences a blinding flare behind her eyelids, then a squeezing sensation followed by a terrible, pressing heat, then nothing at all.


	27. Bully For You

Lucifer drifts. This time, he’s riding the thermals high above the magma sea, letting himself be hypnotized by the slow undulation of the glowing orange and black patterns. The heat rising from it creates foul-scented pillows of air that lift him so well that he rarely needs to beat his wings, so it’s the perfect way to kill lots of time. It’s nearly as good as sleep. _Nearly._

He’s incredibly high up when he feels it- that rippling burst that indicates a divine being just crossed into his realm. He whirls in the air, whipping his head around wildly in case it’s an unfriendly sibling with a grudge. A figure plummets past him like a stone, but… he doesn’t see their wings, only a strange shimmer fluttering around it as it falls. His stomach twists as he recalls the way his own broken wings moved in the passing winds of his Fall… just like that.

He doesn’t know which sibling this is, but suddenly he doesn’t care, he’s diving after them like a falcon. They’re not going to burn as he did- not if he has anything to say about it. He cups his wings closer to him, spilling air faster and faster to catch up to the falling body, watching the white-hot caps of the magma swells drawing closer all the time. _I can’t miss… I can’t miss. One chance, I’ve got you!_

He levels out slightly below the faller, then spreads his wings, swapping velocity for lift, scooping the body into his arms with mere meters to spare before impact. The heat is unbearable, wing muscles, sinew and bones screaming in protest as the billowing air catches and slingshots them into a swooping upward arc. He beats his wings frantically to gain more height, pulling his passenger tightly into his embrace as he maneuvers his way to the obsidian cliffs along the shoreline. The shore itself is too jagged to land, but there are several promontories with places smooth enough to rest upon for a time.

Once he reaches a comfortable gliding height, he spares a glance for his inert burden. He can feel rough fabric under his hands, definitely not Silver City issued. His passenger is face-down, but he can easily see blonde hair with… brown roots? Angels don’t dye their hair, and they _certainly_ don’t need their roots done. A surge of hot air carries a wisp of scent to him, and any lingering doubts are erased.

“Detective?” he murmurs, unbelieving. His arms wrap more tightly around her, and he gains more height before dropping gracefully onto the nearest cliff with a smooth enough surface. He lays her gently on the heated stone, hand threading into the hair along her temple as he checks for injury.

She’s terribly pale, but he can’t see any blood or see any obviously broken bones

“Detective?” he asks again, patting her cheek gently, then more firmly as she turns her head into his palm, groaning hoarsely. “Detective. What in Dad’s name are you doing here?”

“Nnn-“ she coughs weakly, and his breath catches in his throat. She manages to gasp out, “Nothing in his name, here on my own, actually…”

He gapes at her for a moment, eyes wide before leaning down and gathering her to him, crushing her into his warm embrace as slightly hysterical laughter bubbles from his lips.

“What – _Why_ are you here? You don’t belong here, Detective- you-“

“I came to get you-“ she rasps, “because _your_ stubborn ass doesn’t belong here either. Now…” she pulls another rough breath, “get your jacket, dear, because we are _leaving.”_

“Detective-“

“No,” she cuts him off again, this time placing her fingers gently over his lips. “We can talk later, but… I can’t breathe very well here, and _you_ have to take me home, because… I have no idea how I managed to make it here… let alone get back.”

He doesn’t waste another moment, but gathers her gently in his arms, carefully avoiding the ghostly wings still protruding translucently from her back as he stands, and vaults off the cliff, letting the thermals catch them and lift them upward before he jumps the dimensional barrier.

He lands on his balcony at Lux, using his lock skills to open the glass door into his darkened bedroom and hurriedly placing his slight burden on the bed.

“Do you need a hospital?” he asks urgently, “I don’t—tell me what you need!”

She’s quiet for a long time, and he kneels on the floor next to her in a near-panic. Her eyes bore calmly into his, and he feels his frantic heartbeat start to slow.

“Do you promise to listen? _Really_ listen?”

“You’re a fine one to talk about listening, Detective,” there’s more than a trace of bitterness in his voice, but it’s still eclipsed by worry. “I promise, now please tell me what you need me to do to help you.”

“I need _you,_ ” she whispers. She pulls in another labored breath, and he leans closer, waiting for the rest of the sentence. Nothing comes.

“You need me to what?” His left hand caresses her cheek, and her eyelids flutter closed.

“I just… need you. Here. To stay.” Another breath. “We’ve made so many mistakes, Lucifer. We can’t keep running away. It… it doesn’t work. It hurts too much. We need to agree to stay. And make it work. Because… we do.”

“We do, what?” he presses his forehead to hers, willing her to keep speaking.

“We _work_. When we’re together, we work so well until we think about it too hard.”

“Detective, you need to tell me if I need to get you to a hospital.”

“No hospital- I… heal fast now. Like you.” She gives him a small smile, her hand weakly coming up to cup his cheek. “Just… sleep. You’ll stay?” Her fingers touch his lips again before he can respond. “I don’t just mean right now, I mean _stay_. No more leaving. You don’t want to be _there_ , and I want you _here.”_

“I suppose I’ve already broken that promise anyway… I said I wouldn’t return during your or your offspring’s lifespans, and here I am. I’ll stay, Detective, and we’ll talk about the rest when you’re ready.”

“Good,” she murmurs exhaustedly. “Now get in bed.”

“You’re very bossy when you’re sleepy, do you know that?” He climbs to his feet and gets a blast of Hell-scent from himself. He eyes the Detective, whose eyes have drifted shut, a small smile on her face. Her breathing already seems better, and she appears to have fallen asleep. He decides he needs the shower before he sullies his favorite sheets.

He turns the water temperature as hot as he can stand and shucks the suit unceremoniously onto the floor. It will need to be disposed of—nearly a thousand years in Hell is too much to expect of any suit, let alone to be able to use it again afterward.

He steps under the spray and stifles a moan at the feeling of the steaming water cascading over him. The first shower after Hell is always a sublime experience, this one even more so for being unexpected. He scrubs himself down three times before he’s satisfied that he can no longer feel the Hell residue on his skin. He lathers once more just for the sheer luxury of it, then rinses one final time with a sigh of contentment. He shuts off the water and leans against the heated tile wall for a moment, listening to the water dripping. He threads his fingers back through his hair, sluicing excess water out of it and steps out to grab a towel from the rack. He’s toweling his hair when he realizes he didn’t bring any clothing to change into, and he’ll be _damned_ if he puts his Hell suit back on his freshly cleaned body. _The closet’s just a few steps away, and the Detective is asleep, it’s fine._

He wraps the towel firmly around his waist, feeling a sick sort of déjà vu in his stomach as he opens the bathroom door, nearly colliding with the Detective in the billowing cloud of steam that escapes.

********************************

She wakes and he’s not beside her, and she bolts upright in a panic. She glances around the room, then relaxes a little as she hears the shower running.

_He’s here. He’s still here. He’s staying._

She works on gathering her thoughts as she gives her racing heart some time to settle. She pulls her phone from her pocket to check the time, only to realize that it’s not her phone, it’s Lucifer’s. Her own phone is at home in her jacket pocket. Idly, she presses her fingerpad to the print reader, letting it snap her photo and opening the security feature set up for her. Her eyes flicker to the bathroom, where the shower is still running. She clicks on the gallery and looks at the new thumbnail, the one with a stressed Lucifer shoving his fingers into his mussed hair. Her finger hovers it for a long moment before she relents and clicks on it, making sure the volume is low.

 _“Hello, Detective.”_ The words are a little slurred, and she notices the neat line of empty bottles on the bar behind him. His voice is flat, his eyes appear bloodshot, and she thinks to herself that she hasn’t seen him in this state since the time that he swore off sleeping and tried to tell her the truth about Marcus. _“I’m fully aware that I shouldn’t be saying any of this, but I’ve managed to get just sloshed enough that I don’t bloody care. We didn’t get a chance to have our talk- about my promise to leave, or about… us. None of that matters, though, because you’ve finally seen sense and released me of my ridiculous promise to stay, so bully for you!”_ His voice nearly breaks on those last words and sucks in a strangled breath, raking fingers through his hair in the nervous gesture the thumbnail had captured.

 _“In the vanishingly unlikely event that you may actually see this, I wanted to… clear the air. I suppose that’s the proper term. I think Dr. Linda might call it ‘closure’, though I’m still not certain I know what the bloody hell that even means. Well. On with it, then.”_ He gives himself a little shake, taking a long pull from the tumbler he reaches for off-screen and straightening his jacket before he continues. _“Eve was right about one thing, you know- we have hurt each other. Most of the hurting has been inflicted on you, though, Detective, by yours truly. The scales weigh heavy on_ my _side, darling, don’t ever forget that. If you feel any guilt- and I sincerely hope you do_ not _\- please work with Dr. Linda on letting it go. Don’t let it drag you down to, well, my level. Do that for me, Detective, please, it is absolutely critical to your overall well-being.”_ His hand comes up and pinches the bridge of his nose briefly as he takes a sharp breath and another long pull from the tumbler, emptying it.

 _“I wanted to apologize for the scene you came across when you exited the lift in the penthouse. I can promise that it was_ not _what you might have thought it was, but I can certainly understand your immediate reaction. I imagine it might be very similar to how I felt when I came to your apartment after our failed dinner and saw you accept Cain’s proposal through the window. Stabbing pain in the chest, immediately followed by hopeless desolation, yeah? Just saying- human emotions can be a bit of a blight on the entire life experience and yet… Detective, I wouldn’t trade away a single moment of what I have felt for you, not for anything.”_ He stops speaking for a long moment here, eyes focused on the bar in front of him. He seems to shake his way out of his thoughts, reaching for a decanter and pouring it sloppily into the glass before taking another large drink, tossing it back desperately.

 _Your offspring asked me for a deal during our final game night,”_ Chloe’s heart twists at the hitch in voice when he utters the word ‘final’. _“I wanted to ask you again, if you haven’t already, to apologize to her that I did not get the chance to uphold my end of it. Please do let her know that I had every intention of doing so, but by the time I realized… well. Circumstances prevented it.”_ He glances off to the side, where the wall of windows would be. _“The sun is coming up, Detective, and I am out of time. For the second time in my life I had… dared to reach for something I could never have, and I’m terribly afraid that this time I might drag you with me as I fall. For that, you have my deepest apologies, my love- it’s never what I intended for you.”_ He gazes into the camera for another long moment, and she sees the brightness of unshed tears glinting in his eyes. _“Be well, Chloe.”_ A slight fumble as he touches the screen, and it goes dark.

She replays the video again, clicking backwards to cover a few key parts again and again. When it goes dark again her eyes are full of tears, but she feels more at peace than she has in days, since that too-brief Saturday morning when she woke tangled with Lucifer. She hears the shower shut off and slides off the side of the bed, setting the phone on the bedside table as she makes her way to the closed door. She’s debating whether to knock or wait when she’s met with a wall of steam and Lucifer’s glistening, towel-clad body in the now-open doorway.

“Oh,” the sounds falls unconsciously from his lips as he takes a step back, his hand grasping the towel at his waist tightly. “I’m sorry— I was so eager to scrub the Hell residue away before I ruined my mattress entirely that I forgot to bring in a change of clothes. I thought you were asleep, and I didn’t want to put the old suit back on…” He trails off uncertainly, because she’s still gazing at him, and… smiling. “Detective?”

Chloe leans back and crosses her arms across her chest, smirking. “What kind of deal did you offer my daughter?”

 _“Me?!”_ He recoils in affront. “I’ll have you know that your offspring _extorted_ me for that agreement!”

“And that agreement was?” She presses patiently. “I’m her mother, she’s too young to sign any legally binding contracts.”

“You’re never too young for a deal with the devil, Detective,” he sniffs. “I take it you read Beatrice’s letter?”

“No, I haven’t checked my mail yet, I’ve been a little busy. I read Ella’s, though… and I saw your video.”

“Video?” His expression is blank for a moment before realization sets in. “Oh.”

“Mmhm. So. The deal?”

“Er, Detective… I’m not unwilling to disclose the details of the deal, but… would you be willing to grant me a moment to get dressed? The subject is already a bit raw, and having the conversation in clothing other than a damp towel would help me garner just a bit of dignity. Especially given our last encounter involving damp towels…”

Her eyes travel over his body and her smirk warms into a real smile. “All right. Get some pajamas on, then, we’re still going to bed.” She turns and moves back toward the bedroom, giving him some privacy.

“Be right out?” He calls after her, puzzled at her easy demeanor.

He hurries to his closet, slipping on his red satin trousers and his black robe with red trim. He ties it tightly, then runs the towel over his hair once more, catching any lingering moisture before tossing it into the hamper. He detours into the bathroom to scoop up his ruined suit and bags it up, dumping it down the chute on his way back to the bedroom where Chloe waits.

She's curled on her side, facing his side of the bed when he pulls back the covers and climbs in. They gaze at one another across the expanse of his enormous mattress, then both move toward the center simultaneously. Chloe presses her forehead against his shoulder, and he rests his cheek against her crown.

“So, the deal,” he begins, his voice rumbling in his chest against her ear. “Your offspring is a force to be reckoned with. She was very insistent on exploring my feelings for you. I pointed out that our situation is more complicated than most, since I’m _not_ human, with virtually no experience with human emotion. I made it clear to her that, while I cared very deeply for you-- for your safety, your happiness, your well-being—I simply didn’t have a frame of reference to be able to define it better than that. Her proposal was that when I _was_ able to define my feelings better, that I tell you immediately.”

“And what was her role in this deal?”

“She had to properly wash her face and hands before she attacked me with an embrace.”

“She… what?”

“She was absolutely covered in chocolate and marshmallow, Detective. It was a travesty, and I never would have been able to salvage the suit!” He feels her shaking against him, and looks down to find her laughing helplessly, burying her face in his chest to muffle the sound. “It isn’t funny, it’s _extortion._ Though I suppose you can rest easy knowing your clever little minx of a Spawn will likely go far in life.”

“You said in the video that you wanted me to apologize to her for you… because you didn’t get a chance to hold up your end of the deal.”

“Yes. Well, I did my best, but…”

“I heard you.”

“You—oh, you did?” he shifts restlessly next to her, and she squeezes his waist gently.

“Mmhm. Will you… tell me again?”

“What, now? Here?” He tenses, his voice trembling a little.

“No time like the present?” She hides her smile against his shoulder as his arms tighten around her.

“I… I’ve known for a long time that I feel very strongly for you. As I told your Offspring, I don’t have a frame of reference for love—it’s never been something I’ve freely offered, and the one time I did, well. Big Fall. Not good.” He takes a shaky breath, and she remains quiet, lightly rubbing his back with the palm of her hand. “When I saw you… before you ran, when Eve was congratulating me on our developing relationship… When I saw you then, I recognized just _what_ it is that I feel for you. I _do_ love you. I have for… well, quite a long time now. Since that night that you came to me inebriated and angry with the Douche, I think. Maybe even before that, but that’s when I _knew_ I was truly over my head with you.”

She pulls him close, letting his words wash over her, permeating her skin and blooming within her chest. “I love you, too, you know.”

“Mmm, so you’ve said,” she feels his lips press lightly against her hair.

“It’s true,” she repeats firmly. “So does Trixie, and Ella, and Linda. Even Amenadiel.”

He snorts gently and she giggles, letting herself relax into his warm embrace. “I have more questions, and we have a lot more to talk about… but I have to work tomorrow, and I’m exhausted.”

“I shall await your convenience then, Detective, I have nowhere else I need to be, now... and nowhere I’d rather be than here.” He murmurs quietly into her ear. “Before you drift off to sleep, though, you should really fold your wings away. They’re very distracting.”

“You—you can see them?” Her head pops up, surprised.

“Ooh yes. They’re not _here_ in the physical sense, but to a celestial being—even a fallen one—they are quite lovely. Not useful for actual flight, though, as you seemed to discover.”

“Well… I didn’t really _need_ to fly, I just needed to get to Hell to retrieve a certain stubborn _devil._ ”

“How did you manage that extraordinary bit of dimensional travel, anyway? And why in Dad’s name didn’t Amenadiel stop you?”

“I… didn’t tell him I was going to try.” Chloe admits quietly. “When I realized what I’d done, where you’d _gone_ when I… How could you _do_ that to me?!” She pounds her hand against his chest, and he traps it with one of his hands, holding it over his heart. “I knew what I needed to do. Amenadiel wouldn’t take me, but I remembered what God told me about wings… and I felt your light respond to that idea.”

“You felt—sorry, can you say that again?”

“Oh. Um, my divinity?” She confesses sheepishly. “It… feels like you. I can feel it as a kind of light, it sits under my ribs usually, near my heart, and it just—it reminds me of you. When I need it, it kind of flares and fills me up, all warm and bright. So, that’s how I think of it, as your light. It helped me, when I asked. When I needed to get to you, it gave me these wings, and it helped me cross the barrier to Hell. I just asked it to take me to you. I didn’t know you’d be _flying_.”

“I suppose not,” he muses softly. “Your grace did come from me, strictly speaking, I suppose it could still hold some of my… essence. I wonder what Raphael would make of that…”

“Let’s not tell your mad scientist brother about this, hm? The less I have to do with him, the less likely I am to break my fist on his jaw. Although,” she ponders cheerfully, “at least now it would heal right up!”

He huffs a laugh into her hair. “All this musing isn’t putting your wings away though, darling. I’m not certain a human would notice them, but some of the more sensitive ones might, and I think you’d rather avoid the extra attention if at all possible, yes?”

“Oh, Go—ooodness yes. How do I put them away?”

“Have you tried asking? That is how you got them in the first place, is it not?”

Chloe feels a little stupid for not thinking of that, and silently asks the light to make the wings go away. It continues to thrum contentedly, as it has since she woke up with Lucifer nearby again, but her spectral wings remain. “Yeah, no luck there.”

“Hmm.” Lucifer reaches his hand up, brushing the empty air where her left wing would be if it were corporeal, and she feels an intense wave of heat flow up the phantom limb, shooting a jolt of pleasure through her entire being. She catches her breath in a surprised gap and he yanks his hand away, as though burned. “Oh, Detective, I am so very sorry! That was incredibly rude of me.”

“No—no, it’s fine. It… wow, it felt really…” Tendrils of warmth are still crawling under her skin, her ghostly wings flexing behind her in pleasure.

“Yes,” he agrees with her incoherent statement. “Wings are incredibly sensitive.”

“Oh, my—” she looks at him, wide-eyed, “Is that what it felt like for you, when we were working on your feathers?”

“I don’t know what you felt, Detective, so I’m not able to give an accurate assessment, I’m afraid. I can tell you it was an incredibly pleasant experience, and not only because it was relieving the terrible itching of the growing feathers.”

“Did it feel the same way, back when your brother or sister would help you with them?”

“Well… no, I suppose it felt very different when they were helping me.” He muses, considering. “It was a warm feeling, a belonging feeling. It felt different when you were helping. _More._ ”

“Yes. ‘More’ is a good term.” She laughs shakily. “Okay, so how do I do this?”

His eyes are still scanning the area where her wings are languidly fanning. “Try this: Fold them in as far as they’ll go then keep willing them to fold, as though you’re stuffing a scarf into a small pocket. Just keep… mentally tucking them in until they disappear.”

That’s an image she can work with. She pulls her translucent wings in tight, then proceeds to pull and tuck and shove and push until finally she feels a small pop, and their spectral weight is gone.

“Oh, well _done_ , Detective!” He whispers warmly in her ear, allowing his hands to brush over her shoulders. “Not a trace left, well done indeed.”

She laughs in relief, relaxing sleepily into him. She feels a faint whisper of that electric pulse when his hands brush the spot where the wings had erupted. “Thanks for the help, Lucifer, I’m not sure I could have figured out how to do that on my own.”

“I have every faith that you could have… but I’m happy to be of service.”


	28. Answers, Of Course!

Lucifer wakes all at once, warily. He relaxes as he processes his current situation: Not in Hell, snoring detective, right. He opens his eyes to find his face buried in her hair, strands of it glued to his lips and eyelashes. The grey light of dawn dimly illuminates his bedroom and all he wants to do is wrap himself around her and never move again. He knows she needs to leave for work soon, though, and she’ll need to shower and change before she does. She wasn’t in Hell long, but he can smell its taint on her, that pervasive funk of sulfur, heat, and misery. He eases out of her arms, reluctantly ignoring her small protesting sounds at the removal of his warmth.

He leaves a note on the bedside table:

_Detective,_

_Gone to fetch you a change of clothing so you’ll have a bit longer to sleep. I’m sure you can figure out the controls on the shower._

_Back soon._

Stepping out onto his balcony he unfurls his wings in the pre-dawn twilight, grimacing at the grating ash rattling between his feathers. He’ll need to address that as soon as the Detective leaves for the day.

At her apartment, he finds her travel bag still packed from their trip to his Hills estate, and a quick inspection shows at least two complete outfits inside. He gathers it, along with her toiletry bag, stopping downstairs to collect her phone from the hall table. He decides to take her cruiser back to Lux, reasoning that she’d much rather drive herself than have him drop her off in full view of all her colleagues.

It’s early enough that traffic is light, and he makes it back to Lux in time to hear her moving about restlessly in his sheets. He sits on the edge of the bed and brushes her sleep-tossed hair back out of her face again, smiling as she settles with a small sigh. Her breathing is no longer roughened from her exposure to Hell’s atmosphere, and her complexion no longer pale. Something in him settles, knowing that she’s able to bounce back from any injuries more quickly- _at least something good came of this fiasco._

He leaves her curled peacefully into her pillow to start coffee and breakfast, placing her nearly-dead phone on his charging station. He lets himself focus on these tiny tasks, letting them slowly pull him back into this life. Each miniscule familiarity drawing him further away from his aimlessly miserable existence of the past several centuries. He hadn’t bothered to empty his refrigerator or pantry before he left, knowing Maze would take care of it once he was gone, so he has supplies for a simple breakfast of eggs and toast. He starts the coffee brewing, and pulls out his phone as he waits. He sees the message from the detective on Sunday evening, then nothing until midday Monday, several message from Linda.

**_Lucifer are you all right? Chloe just left here after taking your scheduled session- my secretary says you’ve canceled all your upcoming appointments. Please tell me you’re okay._ **

**_Lucifer._ **

**_Please just answer me so I know you haven’t gone away._ **

Several missed calls from Linda, then Maze, then Miss Lopez.

**_Dude, what’s up with this letter?_ **

**_Please tell me you’re still here?!_ **

**_If Chloe sent you to Hell I swear to your dad I’m gonna punch her into next Wednesday!_ **

He smothers a laugh at that one. He’ll have to ask the Detective if she would prefer he let Miss Lopez know he’s back, or if she would rather do so. Either way, he’ll likely need to expect to be on the receiving end of her shoe… at least his invulnerability is fully-functional again.

The coffee completes its cycle and he prepares mugs for himself and his guest. He sets her mug on the bedside table, then settles into his reading chair before clearing his throat loudly.

“Detective? Wakey wakey darling, up you get.” He chuckles softly to himself as she grumbles and curls tighter for a moment before rolling over and stretching luxuriantly as she sits up. “The coffee may still be a bit too hot for you, but…” He trails off as she grabs the mug and drinks from it anyway. “Or perhaps not.”

“It’s perfect, thank you,” she manages between sips. Her smile reaches her eyes, crinkling the corners. “Good morning.”

He nods, agreeing with her. “I took the liberty of retrieving your travel bag and toiletries from your apartment to give you opportunity to sleep a bit longer. You’ll find them in the bathroom. I’m afraid you’ll need to hurry a bit to get your shower in – but you do smell a bit of Hell, love.”

“I’m still going to need to catch an Uber home, my car is there.”

He lifts her key ring, jingling it merrily. “I also took the liberty of retrieving your cruiser. I didn’t think you’d appreciate being seen with me first thing in the morning.”

She snorts softly, still systematically draining her mug. “It’s not like it would start any _new_ rumors. More than half the precinct has basically told me to my face that they think we’re sleeping together. I do appreciate it, though, that was very considerate of you.”

“I suppose in the most _literal_ sense of the word they’d no longer be wrong,” he gestures lightly to exhibit A: Chloe, waking in his bed. “But if you’d care to provide me with their names, I’d be happy to set them straight.”

“Not worth it, Lucifer. People are always going to talk. It doesn’t bother me.”

“If you’re sure, then.” He reluctantly drops the subject, making a mental note to do some digging at a later date. “You should shower, Detective, and I’ll start breakfast. How do you like your eggs?”

“Scrambled is fine—cheese, if you have it?”

“As you wish,” he gives her a teasing bow, and backs out of the room as she heads for her shower.

********************

Being on desk duty does have some perks- her day starts a little later than it normally would, and nearly always ends on time. The later start means that she gets enough time to shower _and_ enjoy breakfast before she needs to leave.

“I wondered,” he remarks as he slides her steaming breakfast in front of her, “if you would prefer that I inform Miss Lopez that I’m back, or if you would rather do so? She seems to have taken my departure rather hard.”

“She attacked me with her shoe.” Chloe widens her eyes dramatically at him before suggesting hopefully, “She might forgive me faster if you just came into the office with me today? I wanted to see if I could talk you into staying on as my partner, too… since you’re staying, now?”

“I may have already burnt that bridge, Detective. I sent a letter to your lieutenant with my resignation, he’ll probably get it today, if it didn’t arrive yesterday with Miss Lopez’s letter.

“Oh no, he got it yesterday. But I convinced not to process it until I had a chance to talk to you. He called me into his office about it right after Ella confronted me, and I was only _just_ realizing where you were. I told him that you’d had some complications with healing, and that you might just be worried about me having a partner that wasn’t at 100% yet…”

“If you want me-“

“Of course I want you, you’re the best partner I could possibly have!”

“-then I’m happy to return,” he continues speaking after her outburst. “But you know I’m more than useless with paperwork. If I come back with you today, I’ll likely only be a hindrance. Especially since once I tell Linda I’m back, it’s only a matter of minutes before Amenadiel and Maze find out I’m back, and they will no doubt be tracking me down for a good lecture. Plus or minus a potential stabbing from Mazikeen, of course.”

“We still need to talk about a lot of things,” Chloe muses slowly. “And… I know you’re recovered, but… Lucifer I’m feeling a little anxious about letting you out of my sight.”

He gazes at her for a moment as he comes to a decision, dark eyes unreadable. “All right, then. Go to work. I won’t be too far behind you. I just need arrange the restocking of my liquor shelf here in the penthouse, and then I’ll come to the precinct to inform Miss Lopez of my return, and speak with your Lieutenant about coming back once you’re back on active duty. I should text Linda to let her know I’m back as well… but that means that Maze may track me down while I’m at the precinct.”

“She can’t stab you in the middle of the precinct, at least.” Chloe stands and takes her empty plate to the sink.

“I wouldn’t wager on that, Detective, she’s incredibly fast, after all” he smirks knowingly. “Just leave the plate, I’ll get it later.”

“Thanks for breakfast. I’ll see you soon?” She successfully represses her urge to kiss him goodbye, but she can’t resist wrapping him in a hug before she leaves. She holds on a little longer than she intended, finally breaking away when he starts laughing softly.

“Yes, Detective, I’ll see you quite soon, it’s safe to let me go.” His hand gently strokes her hair. “We’ll see how today goes and then perhaps we can set a time for our conversation, hm?”

“Okay. See you in a bit.” She nods, inhaling his scent deeply in an attempt to take it with her. His eyes follow her into the lift, and they hold each other’s gaze as the doors close.

*******************

Once he’s alone, Lucifer looks down at his phone and feels a thrill of trepidation. He dials and places the handset to his ear.

 _“Lucifer?!”_ she answers after only one ring.

“Hello, Mazikeen.” His voice is dry, wary.

_“What the actual fuck? Where are you??”_

“I’m upstairs, in the penthouse.” The call drops and he listens for the lift, but instead a clattering comes from the stairwell from her level to his. He pushes the piano against the wall quickly, clearing a space just as his demon charges in, knives drawn.

“Now, Mazikeen,” He ducks the first blow, a swipe aimed for his eyes. “Do try to avoid the face, I’ve got an appointment at the precinct later and while I’m supposed to be recuperating, explaining away extra wounds will be an additional complication that I really don’t need at the moment.”

She roars angrily and launches herself at him again, alternating between fists and blades. He allows the fists to land but successfully dodges the knife strikes time and again, his reflexes honed and ready from his recent centuries back in Hell. He knows well that she’ll calm down sooner if he lets her land some blows. Finally, the fight moves too close to the piano for comfort and he disarms her. He tosses the knives out of reach and strikes his only offensive blow, a devastating flex-handed jab to her midsection, leaving her alternately gasping and groaning on his marble floor.

“Would you care to have a discussion now, Maze?” He asks calmly, “Or do you need to express yourself through interpretive dance some more?”

She growls at him, but moves slowly to sit up, hand massaging her abdominal muscles. “What were you thinking, going back alone?”

“I gave you the opportunity to go back with me, Mazikeen, as you’ll recall.”

“I didn’t listen to the message until yesterday!”

“Well, I gave you a full days’ notice. It’s hardly my fault that you were distracted with your new roommate, now is it?” He lifts an eyebrow in query, and she doesn’t meet his eyes. “I’m rather glad you chose to stay… I felt better about going knowing that our… family… here would be protected.”

“Fine.” She rasps, still pulling in painful breaths. “Are you staying now, or what?”

“I’m staying,” he replies simply. “The Detective appeared in Hell to retrieve me, and I had to bring her back. Now that the promise not to return has already been broken… she pointed out I may as well stay.”

“Decker made it to Hell? How did she convince Amenadiel even _try_ to take her? He flat out refused when we were all here.”

“Well, it’s good to know that my brother does retain some good sense.” Lucifer breezes airily. “Apparently, she managed to finagle her new divinity into a some helpful dimensional-plane jumping capabilities. The atmosphere of Hell doesn’t quite agree with her, though, so she needed some small amount of recuperation once we returned.”

“How long have you been back?”

“We arrived late last night, I’m afraid I didn’t catch the exact time. She’s only just left for work. You’re the first one I’ve notified of my return.”

“Ellen is going to beat you down.” His demon smirks at him, relishing the thought.

“I’m well aware,” he agrees wryly.

“I’ll forgive you for leaving if I can watch.”

“I can’t stop you from following me to the precinct, Maze, but do try to be discreet about it.” He rolls his eyes as she snickers maliciously.

“I’ll catch a seat at Dan’s desk. I’m sure he’ll enjoy watching, too.”

“Yes, Detective Douche does still carry a grudge from poor Charlotte. I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do to help him get over that.” Lucifer shrugs nonchalantly, but his shoulders remain tense at the reminder. “Well. If you’re done with this particular attack, I did tell the Detective I wouldn’t be too far behind her.”

“Okay. Give me a few minutes-- I need to get into position first!”

“Very well,” he sighs in annoyance. I’ll alert Dr. Linda that I’m back while I’m giving you your head start then, shall I?”

Maze doesn’t answer, being already halfway down the stairwell. He shakes his head fondly, retrieving his phone from the countertop, safe from Maze’s retribution.

**_Hello Doctor. I’m afraid I’ve been dragged back, so you’re not rid of me after all._ **

Less than two minutes later his phone is ringing.

“Hello Doctor! Looks like I caught you between patients, then.”

“You _are_ back!” Her voice is shaky with relief. “What happened?? Are you okay? You had us worried sick!”

“Worried?” His brow furrows in confusion. “Doctor, you knew exactly where I was, it’s not as though it’s a new experience for me.”

“Of _course_ we were worried!” Linda is firmly in Friend Mode™ right now, so she doesn’t stop her exasperation from bleeding into her voice. “You’re our friend, and we don’t want you in that terrible place… especially alone! Anything could have happened!”

“Anything that could have happened would likely be something I’d already survived several dozen times before, Doctor,” he tries for flippancy, but falls flat in the attempt. “Be that as it may, the Detective retrieved me last night.”

“Chloe did? How--?”

“Self-actualization, at a guess.” He sighs. “She was able to manifest a way to dimension-hop, and I managed to catch her before she plummeted into the magma sea. The atmosphere didn’t agree with her, so I needed to bring her home, so… here I stand.”

“And here you’ll stay?” He fights a smile, not even the good Doctor had been able to escape the Offspring’s fixation with Frozen.

“Indeed, Doctor. I’ll be in touch with your office soon about getting back on your books, all right?”

“You had better,” she threatens, “We have a lot to discuss.”

“Yes ma’am,” he clicks his heels together, even though she can’t see it. “I’m on my way into the precinct now to let Miss Lopez know I’m back, and to talk to the Lieutenant about resuming my consultant position.”

“Already?” the concern in her tone is sincere, and he smiles, marveling again at these humans that actually _care_ about him.

“I _am_ all healed up… or I _was_ before Mazikeen tenderly welcomed me back. But I’ll recover from that soon enough, and it will add some verisimilitude to their perception of me as still being convalescent.”

“Did she stab you?”

“I managed to avoid the knives, but I gave her some fairly good landings for her punches. I think she’s got it out of her system now, and with the promise of being allowed to watch as Miss Lopez delivers her inevitable beat-down, I should be in the clear soon enough.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Yes, well, it could be worse. Now, I really should be going, I don’t want the Detective to worry if I’m too far behind her. Talk soon, Linda!” He disconnects the call and looks longingly at his empty liquor shelf. His restock order will have to wait.

********************************

Maze is disappointed with Lucifer’s reunion with Ellen. She’s in place at Dan’s desk, eagerly watching as the King of Hell nervously approaches the lab. He’s moving gingerly, and she feels a surge of satisfaction at the punches she was able to land with enough force for the Archangel to actually _feel_ , let alone cause even a slight injury. She never has to hold back when she’s fighting Lucifer, and that just feels so damn good.

He makes it into the lab and closes the door before the tiny scientist even registers his presence. She drops the piece of evidence she’s working on and launches herself at him, beating his chest with her fists but stopping immediately when he flinches away. Apology is heavy on her face as he speaks earnestly, and her eyes shine with unshed tears. He watches her uncertainly when he finishes speaking, and she launches herself at him again, this time wrapping him in an enthusiastic hug. Lucifer freezes for a moment, glancing back at Maze again with a smirk on his face as she grimaces in dissatisfaction. He eventually returns Ellen’s hug perfunctorily, and she releases him with an admonishing finger wave under his nose. He grins cheekily back at her, and Maze slinks from the precinct, expectations unfulfilled.

**********************************

Lucifer drops into the chair by Chloe’s desk with an exaggerated sigh of relief. His posture is off, and Chloe looks up with a concern that he waves off.

“I’m fine- or I will be soon enough.” He chuckles, then grimaces, pressing his palm to his abdomen. “I alerted Mazikeen of my return first and took my blows at the penthouse. On the upside, she did _not_ manage to stab me, and the twinges from the bruises she gave me helped me offer a convincing portrayal of convalescence to your Lieutenant just now.”

“How did that go?”

“He applauded my dedication to your safety, and suggested a certain form in HR? Something about workplace relationships, I admit I wasn’t really listening.”

Chloe rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “So much for keeping us under wraps. We’ve not even had a chance to discuss it amongst ourselves and it’s already on the boss’s radar.”

“Would you rather we--?”

“No!” she interrupts abruptly. “No, not at all. In fact, I already _have_ the form. But, we _do_ need to talk.”

“Yes,” he agrees absently, glancing over at Dan’s desk, where the other man is glaring balefully at him. “In your own time, Detective.”

“Ella seemed to take your return well- I didn’t see her break out the shoe!”

“Ah, watching us, were you?” He smiles warmly, eyes crinkling. “Miss Lopez is a rare soul, much like you, _truly good_. Is there anything you needed me for specifically, Detective? I would offer to help with paperwork but…”

“I would just need to do it over again, I know. I remember last time you tried to ‘help’.” She shakes her head, laughing. “I don’t know how you manage to run a business.”

“By hiring competent people like yourself to handle most of the paperwork for me,” he responds promptly, without a hint of shame. “I balance the books and make the big decisions, and let others handle the rest. It works remarkably well.”

“I’m actually surprised you balance your own books.”

“It’s not all that different from tracking favors, darling. Ins and outs, it’s all the same.”

“Hm. Okay. Well, if you want something to do, you want to look over these bank records then? We’re looking for unusual deposits around the time of the murders.” She looks up at him hopefully.

“Oh! I should be able to handle that well enough,” he stretches out his hand for the papers and she hands them over, his eyebrow lifting as her fingers deliberately brush his. He doesn’t acknowledge the contact any further other than an amused hum, and he focuses on his task.

Two hours later, he’s grumbling to himself, “Why does this wanker have so many accounts? I have far more assets than he does, and I’ve only got three!”

“Shell companies. They’re great for burying things like this.”

“Ugh!” he scoffs, turning the final page. “Well, here you have it, Detective, the final account. I’ve marked anything odd with these handy little sticky notes.”

“Thank you,” she breathes fervently, “that’s a huge help. Want to break for lunch?”

 _“Please,”_ he practically begs, and she laughs. “Shall we see if Miss Lopez wants to join us? Perhaps we can convince her to bury the hatchet?”

Ella has been shooting glares at her all morning, and saving her smiles for Lucifer. Her stomach twists every time she notices it, but she’s been keeping herself too busy with her tasks to really worry about it.

“I don’t know if she will, Lucifer, she’s pretty angry with me.”

“Oh, psh. I know how to get her to join us. Give me just a moment.”

He glides to the lab, Ella’s face lighting up as he enters. Chloe watches as he speaks for a moment, then holds out his hand, palm up in an inviting gesture that sweeps toward the doorway. Ella’s eyes flicker to her and narrow suspiciously, then back to Lucifer. They speak some more and he gives her a faint bow at the waist, his fingertips brushing his chest. A slow smile spreads across her face and her eyes widen in excitement. Next thing she knows, Lucifer is returning to her desk with a grin on his face as Ella scrambles to get her things together. 

“Excellent, she’s coming with. Are we ready?”

“Lucifer, what did you promise her?”

“Answers, of course!” He grins, and Chloe can’t help but chuckle at his enthusiasm.

“All right, let’s go, then.”

***********************************

Lunch is a lively affair, with Ella asking questions about wings, dimensional planes, hell loops, and many other things, with no real segue between subjects. Finally, she asks about something the Chloe recognizes from the letter Lucifer had sent her.

“So… about the creepy non-grave, grave? Will you tell me about that now?”

“Miss Lopez,” Lucifer’s face falls, and the sadness that spreads across it twists Chloe’s heart. “I promised you answers, of course I will. But, you… will likely think less of me when you know. The ‘non-grave’ had in fact been a gravesite, for my brother Uriel.”

“Uriel?” Ella parrots, “As in, ‘gave the priest the poison to kill you along with a fake prophecy’, Uriel?”

“One and the same, Miss Lopez.”

“You said you stopped him,” Chloe breaks in softly. “When he was trying to kill me, you said you stopped him.”

“And so I did, Detective,” he murmurs, eyes never leaving the table. “When he wouldn’t listen to reason, and made it clear that he was going to eradicate Mum with Azrael’s blade _and_ kill you… I had to stop him. He was going to kill Mazikeen as well. I… managed to get hold of the blade. I killed him, my brother. I didn’t want to but… I didn’t see another choice, and he wouldn’t stop.” He’s looking at his right hand in horror now, fingers clenched so tightly the knuckles shine white. “He… he wouldn’t be stopped. I had to—”

Chloe quietly reaches over and places her hand over his. The same one he’s staring at, horror-struck. After a moment, Ella reaches across the table and does the same. His eyes are brimming with emotion, but no tears fall. Chloe has seen similar expressions on his face before, but realizes she has never seen him cry. _Has he ever been able to cry? To show that kind of weakness?_ She’s willing to bet she knows the answer.

“Hey.” She nudges him gently, pulling him out of his dark thoughts. “You were defending others. I’m sorry it happened, but… would you make a different choice, if you had to go back again?”

“N-no,” he mutters. “I don’t like it, but there _was_ no other option. I truly believe he had gone insane.” He clears his throat, casts his eyes out the window. “Anyway. Miss Lopez. That hole was where my brother had been buried, until my devious mother started handing out those maps to the gravesite, trying to get one of her clients to dig it up and steal Azrael’s blade to try to get Father’s attention… I needed your help because that blade is incredibly dangerous in human hands- it encourages them to kill for little to no reason.”

“Is that the knife that disappeared in the Jensen Glory case??” Chloe quickly puts the pieces together, remembering a time when she had been desperately jealous of how closely Ella and Lucifer had been working together. "The Full Yoga Massacre?"

“It is, Detective, and you needn’t worry about it surfacing again. When I sent Mum to her new universe, I tossed the blade into the void with her, so it’s completely out of our hair now.”

“Your _mom_?” Ella’s eyes widen.

“Yes… that’s a story for another day, Miss Lopez, if you don’t mind?”

“Sure-sure,” she agrees, nodding spasmodically. “Holy crabapples, Batman, how much have I missed since I moved here?”

Lucifer smiles weakly, “Probably quite a lot. You arrived in town right about the time Mum did, so you’ve been here for the thick of it. It’s nearly time for us to be heading back, isn’t it?”

“I think I’ve got time for one more question…”

“Fire away, Miss Lopez,” he smiles at her, gesturing weakly for her to go on.

“You were adamant about not breaking your promise to go back… even though no one _asked_ you for that promise. You always hold to your word, I know, but… why was that so important to you?”

“Because… Miss Lopez, if I break my word, if I renege on promises… then I’m no better than what humanity thinks of me. The Father of Lies.” He expression is bleak. “I tried to break my word once, and that action led directly to… to the events of the past few weeks. I wound up keeping the promise in the end, but the damage was done. I hadn’t wanted to do so ever again, and yet here I am.”

A pervading silence cloaks the table before Ella asks the question hanging between them. “What promise did you try to break?”

“That’s an involved question, with a complex answer. The short answer is… an immortal human wanted help in order to die. I agreed to help find a way to end his endless existence, but when he took his plans too far and endangered other lives I care about, I told him I could no longer help him.”

“But you kept the promise in the end?”

“I did. When Cain tried to kill the Detective in order to get rid of me… I knew he was too dangerous to live- he had no consideration for safety of anyone other than himself.”

Ella’s eyes go wide. “That’s when--?” Her eyes shoot to Chloe and she nods. “Oh man… I still haven’t wrapped my brain around that whole can of worms. I have a _lot_ of catching up to do.”

“Welcome to the club,” Chloe snorts, and Ella slides her the first friendly look she’s had from her since Girls’ Night.

“Well ladies, back to work?” Lucifer asks hopefully, eyes lighting up when they agree. Lucifer drops cash on the table and they head for the exit. Ella had driven separately, as she had a crime scene to visit directly after lunch. As they enter the cruiser, he turns to Chloe. “I say back to work, but I really do have some things I need to tend to this afternoon, Detective, if you can spare me?”

“Okay?” She lifts an eyebrow in query, and he elaborates quietly.

“The ash in my feathers is driving me mad- I need to do a thorough grooming.”

“Can you manage alone? I mean… do you need help? It’s hard to reach your back—”

“I truly appreciate the offer, Detective,” he gives her a small smile, “but I’ve managed quite well without assistance before. The jets in the hot tub are quite adept at agitating the feathers enough to knock the worst of it loose. If all else fails, I can go down to the beach at night and let the waves crash my wings over the rocks. The sand is much easier to dislodge than the bloody ash.”

“If I can help, please let me. Why don’t you come over for dinner tonight? Trixie will be glad to see you, and if you still need it, I can help you once she’s in bed?”

“Isn’t it Taco Tuesday? Won’t Daniel be there tonight?”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t come over?” she wheedles, hating how clingy she’s being, but also badly wanting his company.

He reaches over and pats the back of her hand gently. “Daniel would _not_ appreciate my presence at family night, Detective, though I appreciate your willingness to invite me despite risking his displeasure. We’ll be able to manage a night apart, yes?”

“Yes,” she hisses reluctantly. “But I’d rather _not_. I’ve been sleeping much better when you’re beside me. I have… strange dreams when you’re not there.”

“When did that start?” he asks, concerned.

“I don’t really know- I’ve slept beside you nearly every night since… Kinley. I had that nightmare the one night when you first came back to my apartment after your treatment… then Saturday and Sunday were really restless, I don’t remember specific dreams, but— Why?”

“Just curious. I didn’t sleep well Saturday before I left, but I found I did sleep better once I found that one of my pillows smelled like you from your nap there on Friday.” His eyes find hers, dark and deep, and a little sad. “Perhaps we’ve just grown too accustomed to having each other nearby. I’m sure Linda can help us with that, if we were to ask.”

“Let’s… see if we can manage on our own first? Maybe we won’t need to ask?” She pulls into her parking spot in the precinct parking garage and exit the car. Chloe walks Lucifer to his Corvette. “I meant it- please let me know if I can help, okay?”

“Of course, Detective. If you find you’re having difficulty sleeping, please let me know; I’m sure we can find a workaround as we… adjust back to normal.”

“I wish you would come to dinner,” the words burst out of her as he turns to open his door.

“I would like nothing better, darling,” he purrs, turning back and wrapping her in an embrace. “But I truly do feel it’s best not to antagonize poor Daniel with my presence. He is having a truly rough time dealing with the loss of Charlotte, and… I seem to be his chosen target for blame. It… it just doesn’t seem fair to deprive him of your and the Offspring’s much-needed support so _I_ can enjoy your company.”

“Fine,” she grumbles into his chest and he chuckles, his laughter rumbling against her cheek. “But I don’t have to like it.”

“Neither one of us has to like it, darling, but that doesn’t change what _is._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought (hoped) we were getting close to the end, but then something just appeared on the horizon and it appears it may not be quite done with me yet. I guess I won't know until it tells me.  
> I truly appreciate all the love y'all are sending my way - your comments make me smile!


	29. You're Not One of the Good Guys.

Lucifer steps into the hot tub and unfurls his wings, scowling at the ashy patina coating his pearlescent feathers. He sinks onto his knees in the center, mantling his wings around him and letting the jets do the work of agitating the worst of the residue from his feathers and the sensitive skin underneath them. He moves to one corner of the tub and extends his left wing as far as he can while still keeping it submerged, tilting it this way and that to allow for better water circulation through the shafts and vanes, then does the same for the right. He finds a few feathers that had clearly been a bit slower than the others that still needed the vanes freed from the keratin shafts, so he maneuvers them gently to free them, brushing them gently into line with the others. When the wings are as clean as he can get them, he drapes them over the edge of the tub to drip dry. He could flap them dry within a few minutes, but he refuses to act like an enormous bird in a garden bath, so simply relaxes in the bubbling water as his feathery appendages dry in the sun. He makes a mental note to change the filtration medium later, it will certainly need it after cleaning this mess.

His afternoon passes. Once his wings have dripped sufficiently dry enough that they won’t drag the ground he exits the tub, leaving the jets running to assist in the filtration of the water. He places the order to restock his personal liquor supply, and takes an inventory of his pantry and fridge, making note of what he needs to replenish. Then, at last, he sits at his piano. He plays some simple scales at first, re-familiarizing himself with the weight of the keys, humming in pleasure at the pure tones as the hammers strike the strings. He plays. He spends the remainder of the afternoon, evening, and into the wee hours simply serving as nothing more complicated than a conduit for the music surging through him.

His phone chimes and he nearly ignores it. Usually a text this late at night is a party invite, or a request from one of his previous guests for access to the penthouse. With a sigh, he reluctantly removes his fingers from the keys and picks up the device. His lips quirk into a smile as he finds a message from his Detective.

**_You awake?_ **

**_I was just working my way through some Strauss._ **

**_Is that whiskey?_ **

**_Alas, my collection has not been restocked yet. The composer. I’m at the piano. Is everything all right?_ **

A long pause ensues, and he wonders if she’s fallen asleep. He turns back to the piano just as his alert sings three times in a row.

**_Yes._ **

**_No._ **

**_How are your wings feeling?_ **

He chuckles to himself at that obvious deflection. He looks at the device in his hand, pondering for a moment before he flips to his contacts and calls her. She answers before it can finish ringing once.

“Hi.”

“Detective, you’re not lying awake at 2 in the morning wondering about the comfort level of my itchy wings.”

“Are they still itchy?”

“Would you like to discuss it, darling?” He lowers the fallboard and leans his elbows on top of it, curiously awaiting her answer.

“I was thinking about our discussion over lunch, about your brother.”

“I didn’t lie, Detective,” The words are uttered softly, and for a moment he thinks she didn’t hear him.

“Of _course_ you wouldn’t- what are you talking about?” she sounds indignant, though he can’t imagine why.

“In the cabin, you asked me what number Cain was, how many I’d killed. I told you the truth, Cain is the first, the _only_ human I’ve killed.” He pulls in a ragged breath. “Uriel is the only Celestial. I’m afraid I can’t tell you how many demons I’ve needed to extinguish… but those were only in the most extreme situations, typically after multiple assassination attempts, where allowing them to live longer would only encourage _more_ attempts from others with such a show of weakness on my part…”

“That’s… No, Lucifer, I wasn’t worried about you lying to me.” He hears a faint sniffle, and his heart sinks.

“I’ve upset you.”

“I’m fine,” another sniff. “I’m not upset with you, I’m upset _for you_. You shouldn’t have been stuck in those situations, having to make those choices.”

“Oh,” he responds, nonplussed. “Well, there’s no need to lose sleep on my account—you shouldn’t-“

“You _were_ trying to get that sniper to shoot you,” she interrupts quietly, and he stops talking. “I was right, you wanted to be punished… I just didn’t know why.”

“I’ve always told you the truth, Detective. Perhaps now you can see it? When I tell you that I’m a monster?”

“Lucifer, acting in defense of yourself, or of those you care about—that doesn’t make you a monster. You made the best decisions you could to ensure our safety, and that’s all anyone can expect from... from _anyone.”_

“You still refuse to see?” He sighs in resignation. “Daniel is right, I am not one of the good guys.”

“You heard that, huh?”

“I can hear nearly everything in my vicinity, try as I might to filter out private conversations.”

“I wish… I wish I could _show_ you how I see you.” He hears a rustling of cloth, and he pictures her curling on her side, hugging her pillow to her chest. “You have so many amazing qualities, and you don’t see yourself at all clearly.”

“Detective,” he purrs playfully, “You’ve not had a chance to experience _half_ of my ‘amazing qualities’.” She snorts, and he grins because he can practically hear the rolling of her eyes.

“Lucifer.”

“Always the truth, darling,” he retorts, and changes the subject. “How is the Douche? Did he behave for dinner?”

“More or less.” A sigh rustles over the line. “You were right, it would have been a disaster if you had come. Trixie asked about you and he… well. We managed not to fight, but it was a near thing. Thank you, for being so understanding of him.”

“I know what loss feels like, Detective.” He murmurs, “And how easy it is to place blame, even when there is no clear fault to be found. I am an easy place to lay blame, and I promise I would never truly hurt him.”

“That doesn’t excuse him from—”

“No,” he agrees, “but I have faith that you and the Urchin will help him heal in time. And until then, I’m willing to bear the brunt of his ire, if need be. I’ve weathered far worse.”

“You sound like you need a hug.” She mutters, and her voice is heavy.

“ _You_ sound like Miss Lopez,” he jokes lightly. “Was there anything else keeping you awake? You have to be at work in just a very few hours.”

“I had to change my sheets.”

“Okay?”

“You left a lot of glitter behind the last time you slept here, and I couldn’t take it anymore.” He bursts out laughing, and she joins in.

“You can blame your offspring for that. I was picking it out of my hair for _years_.” He shakes his head ruefully. “It’s a bloody good thing I _didn’t_ need to be the King of Hell, the demons never would have taken me seriously while I was looking like a Twilight reject. Changing your sheets isn’t really an answer to my question, though…”

“The pillow doesn’t smell like you anymore,” Her voice is muffled, like she’s covering her face as she makes the admission and he chuckles quietly.

“Ahh, I see. Well, it sounds as though you’re at least a little bit tired. Shall I play for you until you’re asleep?”

“…Please?” the request is timid, and he doesn’t respond in words, merely lifting the fallboard and setting the phone on the piano lid, setting it to speaker mode. His fingers drift slowly across the keys, playing a calming melody. He doesn’t stop until after her gentle snores have echoed over the line for several minutes, and then he listens to her even breathing for several minutes more before disconnecting the call.

******************

The next day when Chloe returns home from work, she finds a simple box sitting on her stoop, with ‘Detective’ written on it in Lucifer’s ornate handwriting. She smiles and takes it inside with her. It’s been a challenge _not_ to text him throughout the day, so it’s good to know he had been thinking about her, too.

She steps inside and texts Olga to let her know she can send Trixie home, and opens the box. Inside, there is a tiny box and paper parcel marked “In case of insomnia emergency”. She chuckles to herself and opens the box, finding a tiny bottle of cologne. She uncaps it and waves it under her nose, recognizing it immediately as she inhales. She closes her eyes and a smile spreads across her face. This might do the trick. She briefly considers opening the parcel, but it very specifically says for emergencies, so she leaves the mystery alone for now, tucking it back in the box and depositing it onto her bedside table. She spritzes the cologne lightly on the pillow she doesn’t normally use, then moves back downstairs to greet her daughter who she can hear coming in the door.

**_Thank you for the package! I’m sure it will help._ **

**_I certainly hope it will._ **

**_Do you want to come for dinner?_ **

**_I would love to, but Maze and Eve are here right now… something about needing an impartial judge on their cocktail mixing skills._ **

She laughs light-heartedly

**_Another time, then. Thank you for talking with me last night, and helping me get to sleep._ **

**_Of course, it was my pleasure._ **

The evening passes uneventfully, and she falls asleep much more easily.

Thursday they exchange text messages several times throughout the day, but Lux business prevents him from visiting in the evening.

That night she wakes in a panic from a nightmare she can’t remember, only that Lucifer was in danger, and she was rushing to reach him in time before--. She rolls over and grasps the pillow to her. The scent of his cologne helps, but she still feels as though she can’t breathe. She fights the urge to reach for her phone.

_He’s fine. He’s fine. It was only a stupid dream, he’s probably playing or dancing in Lux right now. Snap out of it, Decker._

Several minutes later and she’s still trembling, but no longer panting. She lays there, curled tightly around the pillow, eyes wide open. Two hours later there’s no change. The cologne helps, but it’s still missing something. That underlying crisp scent that’s uniquely Lucifer. She recalls the parcel and decides to throw caution to the winds. She bolts upright and reaches under her bed for the box, removing the lid and pulling out the parcel. She tears it open as quietly as possible, pulling out a deep maroon dress shirt. She certain it’s the shirt he’d been wearing on Tuesday when she saw him last. Hesitantly, she holds it up to her nose and inhales deeply. _There it is_ , that missing piece, that fundamental scent of _him_ that the cologne alone just couldn’t capture. She doesn’t hesitate to throw off her pajama top and slides his shirt on instead, wrapping herself blissfully in it. She smiles to herself as she lays back down, curling around her spare pillow and finding herself content and drowsing.

Friday morning the Lieutenant stops at her desk with a file in hand.

“How’s your partner, Decker?”

“I haven’t talked to him today sir, but he’s been feeling better every day.”

“It’s been a rough week, and we’re even shorter than usual, Margoles is out with a rotator cuff injury. I know it hasn’t been a week yet, but I’ve got a case for you.”

“I’m sure he’s up for at least riding along with me,” Chloe assures him earnestly. “I’ll keep an eye on him, sir.”

She looks over the file and texts Lucifer, receiving an enthusiastic agreement in less than a minute. Chloe grabs her belongings and heads out to the scene.

***********************************

Mazikeen is starting to get on Lucifer’s last nerve. He doesn’t know if she’s doing this to try to get even with him for leaving her behind, or for volunteering her to be Eve’s new roommate, or for some reason yet unknown, but she’d commandeered his last two evenings. She’d left him to his own devices on Tuesday, but then Wednesday she and Eve had arrived with their impromptu cocktail mixing competition, and he’d missed out on an evening with the Detective. Last night he’d been holed up down in his office in Lux most of the night, but when he took the elevator up to his penthouse that evening he’d found it occupied with a very diverse orgy. It was so crowded that he’d given up trying to find Maze and had eventually retreated down to her apartment level, where he’d slept very poorly on her couch.

He’d been so excited to get the text about the Detective’s case, he doesn’t even mind the mess and scattered unconscious bodies as he weaves his way through his penthouse to his closet. He dresses hurriedly and makes his escape before Maze or Eve can catch him.

He arrives on the scene with breathless apologies, depositing a coffee in the Detective’s hand and gazing in fascination at the body above them impaled on a rather sharp sculpture of a giant plant.

“What have we got?” he asks interestedly, leaning forward to get a better view.

“Whoa, and a party in the back!” Ella chuckles.

“Hm?” He turns to see her grinning mischievously at him. As he does, he accidentally jostles Chloe’s arm and she spills her coffee down his suit. “Oh bollocks, I’m so sorry Detective, I’m all wrong-footed today.”

“Lucifer, you have something… stuck to your pants.” Chloe chokes out. He looks around, puzzled, and finds a fire-engine red thong clinging to the back of his pants

“Oh, so I do.” He plucks it off, gives it a cursory sniff – no one he knows—and stuffs it casually in his pocket. “So, what do we know about this fellow?”

Chloe gapes at him for a moment before turning away with her notepad. “Gary Van Blundt, an auditor. He was pushed out the window up there. I talked to one of the bystanders here, she’s an artist and she gave me a lead, a sketch of a guy that seems to have been following him.”

“Excellent! Do we know who he is, or--?”

“Not yet. We’ll do a search when we get back to the precinct. I’ll call you when we find something?”

“You don’t want me to come back with you?” They start moving back toward their cars as they talk.

“I figured you’d want to change… and drop off the thong to its owner?”

“Oh. Well, changing is certainly a good idea, though the suit is probably already ruined. The owner of that little number is probably long gone, I’m certainly hoping Maze and Eve have cleaned up after their little party by now. It’s one thing if they want to trash their level, but bringing their orgy up to the penthouse is another thing altogether—”

“You hosted an orgy last night? What happened to the Lux business?” her tone is suddenly frigid, and he turns to her, perplexed.

“Of course I didn’t. I was in my office in Lux ‘til about 1 o’clock. When I took the lift home Maze and Eve had a very large… and loud… orgy in session. I knew I wasn’t getting any sleep there, so I went down to Maze’s level and had a kip on her couch. Not a very good one, but better than trying to sleep in my office chair. If it hadn’t been so late I probably would have called you and… and why do I feel like I just provided you with an alibi, Detective?”

Her brow creases in confusion. “If you weren’t there, then how did that little… ornament wind up on your pants?”

“Well I certainly wasn’t going to come here in yesterday’s suit! I had to go up to the penthouse level to change. That little number must have clung on when I sat down to tie my shoes…” he watches her face flush and a slow smile spreads across his face. “Why, Detective… were you jealous?”

“No!” she bursts out, too quickly and his smile spreads wider, lighting a wicked sparkle in his eyes. “Maybe, a little. We… haven’t had a chance to… discuss anything yet and—”

“You needn’t worry, Detective,” he moves in closer, his voice a low murmur. “I’m well aware of your views of my lifestyle up to now, and if we move in the direction I’m rather hoping for, you don’t have to worry that I will… wander.” She looks up at him in disbelief, eyes wide. “But perhaps you’d be more comfortable discussing that when we have… less of a work-related audience?”

She startles and looks around quickly, Ella is watching them, grinning widely and giving them a thumbs-up, and Chloe suddenly realizes how very close they’re standing.

“Um. Yes. Definitely, yeah. Later.” She steps away, her throat is suddenly dry and she swallows twice before she can say any more. “I’ll call you when we’ve got that lead.”

**************************

Maze and Eve have _not_ cleaned up after their party yet, as it happens.

"Mazikeen?!" He calls, incensed. "You understand that you _will_ be clearing the aftermath away properly, yes?"

"Hello Lucifer," comes a voice from the settee.

"Linda!" He crows, happily turning on the stairs to his bedroom, able to spy the tiny therapist through the hanging straps of one of the sex swings strategically stationed around the flat. "It's lovely to see you after so many centuries! I'm afraid you've missed Mazikeen and Eve's little shindig, but if you'd like to stop in-"

"I'm here because you missed your session after you _left for Hell_ , and you haven't rescheduled your sessions yet."

"Oh," he descends the stairs again and approaches her slowly. "You're angry with me as well, then."

"I'm not angry," she explains calmly, "I'm _concerned_. How are you feeling about being back?"

"Well, I'm certainly not chuffed about breaking a promise, but... as I needed to break it to get the Detective back to Earth safely, I suppose I can't be too angry about it. And Earth _is_ infinitely preferable to Hell."

"If you were so worried about keeping the promise, then what's stopping you from going back?"

"The vow was that I would leave for Hell, and that I wouldn't return during the Detective or her Offspring's lifespans. Once I brought her home, she pointed out that particular vow was already broken. Going back wouldn't change that."

"And?"

"And she didn't want me to go away again. She bloody well would have followed me again, Doctor, you _know_ how stubborn she is!" He gesticulates toward the ceiling uselessly.

"Mmhm. And?"

"And... And I didn't want to go." His confession is a broken whisper, a jagged admission of weakness.

"Good."

"Good?!" He parrots disbelievingly, "Doctor, I'm... I'm an Oathbreaker! It is most definitely _not good!"_

"I'm not saying it's good that you feel you broke a promise, only that you're recognizing that you didn't want to fulfill the promise in the first place." She leans closer to him and places a hand gently over his clasped ones across his knees. "You're finally starting to acknowledge your own deeper desires, not just the superficial ones."

"I... I need to change my suit, Doctor, do you mind if I-? He gets up without waiting for her response, and she waits patiently for him to return.

He takes longer than he strictly needs, trying to collect himself again as he smooths the lines of his new choice.

"Have you had a chance to speak with Chloe yet?"

"About one or two things, we haven't had a moment for our, er, rather important one yet. Although, interesting development, she did show some jealousy earlier this morning at a crime scene!" He grins weakly, trying to distract her with gossip.

“What happened?”

"This," he gestures to the shambles that's left if his flat. "I wasn't here for this, Maze and Eve commandeered my penthouse last night while I was in my office. I wound up sleeping downstairs on Maze's couch. I came up here to change this morning and someone's thong got stuck to the seat of my pants at some point, Miss Lopez spotted it when I arrived at the crime scene."

"And how did she react to that?"

"Well, she got a bit _shirty_ with me at first, but she let me explain this time... And I told her that if we proceed in a relationship, that she needn't worry I'd be unfaithful."

"And you'd be willing to forgo everyone else to be with her?"

"Doctor... I haven't been with anyone since before she left for Rome. Not since before she accepted Pierce, really. Well, excepting myself, of course." He shrugs. "I... Haven't had any interest in anyone."

"And what do you think that means?"

"Oh, Doctor, I figured that out ages ago. Well. Ages ago for me, just a few days for you lot." He smiles, but it's sad. "I love her. I never once thought it was possible, never wanted it to be possible, but with her... I can hardly bear the thought of anything else."

"Will you tell her?"

"Oh, we are a bit behind, aren't we?" He chuckles wryly. "I already have. Twice, in fact. Once before I left for Hell, then once after she retrieved me."

"Lucifer!" Linda breathes, and he glances up, surprised to find tears brimming in her eyes.

"Doctor? Are you all right?" His shoulders hunch as he looks into her eyes with concern. "Have I broken you again?"

She laughs lightly, "No, I'm not broken. I'm just- I'm so very proud of you and the progress you're making."

"Really?" He perks up a little, eyes brightening hopefully.

She starts to respond, but his phone chimes and he grabs it gratefully. "Oh, it's the Detective, we've got our lead! I'll call to reschech this afternoon, all right?"

She waves him off, knowing she'll never stop him from going, and still reeling with what she'd learned.

***************

“Detective! Hi!!” He taps on the window excitedly, and she urges him inside the car. “Sorry I’m late! I got held up with the good Doctor.”

“You had an appointment? Why didn’t you say so, I could have done this without you-“

“Oh, nonsense! I didn’t have an appointment, she was laying in wait for me at the penthouse- which is still a complete _disaster_ from Maze’s little shindig last night, by the way… honestly, demons… Anyway. We had a little conversation, which you saved me from, and I promised I would call her office this afternoon to reschedule my regular appointments.”

“Maybe you should do that now. Since we have time.”

“All right, then you can fill me on why we’re here.”

As it happens, his regular slot hadn’t been filled yet- he suspected Linda’s direct intervention there- so he had the receptionist book him back in starting on Monday. That should appease the Doctor, it certainly seems to make the Detective happy, judging from the satisfied look on her face. She gives the relevant details of their target, and points out which car they’re watching.

“Understood, Detective. You can count on me. I'll not take my eyes off that vehicle.” Within 15 minutes he’s sound asleep, and Chloe shoots him a fond sideways look. He _had_ mentioned that he’d not slept well on Maze’s couch, and she knows he’s still recovering from his time in Hell, where restful sleep simply wasn’t possible. She thinks about her brief foray into that suffocating realm, and feels another keen pang of empathy for the man beside her. Spending millennia there, utterly alone with enemies on all sides… never feeling the light of the sun or a refreshing breeze. It truly is no wonder he takes such joy in all the little things here.

“You know, I meant it when I said I wanted you to choose to be happy,” she blurts out quietly. He doesn’t react except for a slight snore, his lips smacking a little before he settles back against the headrest again. “I… don’t want to hold you back, but… I don’t—if we do this, if we _really_ do this, I don’t think I could bear to share you with anyone. I just don’t know if I can be enough for you. But… I’d like to be. So. We’ll talk soon, and maybe we can figure it out together, yeah?”

Just then she sees a woman walking quickly down the line of cars, with a man in a toboggan overtaking her quickly from behind. She pats Lucifer’s shoulder distractedly, waking him abruptly.

“Fetch me the goat!” He bleats as his eyes snap open. “What?”

Just then the man drops a bag over the woman’s head and they scramble from the car as he shoves her into the trunk of the very car they were watching. The situation plays out that he’s a trainer for a kidnap and ransom preparation program, and the woman one of his students. Vincent points them to Malibu Canyon after providing his alibi, and they move back toward Chloe’s cruiser.

“Well, that was a bust. But now we know how Gary spent the last day of his life. In the 5,800 acres of Malibu Canyon.” She sighs in frustration. “Alright, I'm going to go back to the precinct. I'm going to work up a list of what homes and businesses we canvas first. Why don't you go home and get some sleep?”

“Nonsense, detective. I've already had my cat nap. I insist you go home and get some rest and I'll burn the midnight oil at the station.”

“You're offering to do hours of tedious research?” She eyes him suspiciously.

“I want to do whatever it takes to secure justice for poor boring Gary.” He declares earnestly, following it up with a more characteristic, “Besides, it’s not as though I can go back to the mess that is my penthouse… not until Maze and Eve have had it sufficiently cleaned.”

She snickers, shaking her head. “You know, maybe next time just tell them no?”

“Had I been there, I certainly would have!” He barks indignantly. “As it happens, they’d had the party going for hours by the time I arrived, and there was no point even trying then, the damage was done. Not to worry, though, Detective, I’ll have a list of locations to start with for you by morning.”

“Thank you, Lucifer, that… really means a lot. So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Bright and early!” he replies, grinning.

***************************

“Hey man, what the _hell?_ ” Dan’s angry voice rings through the precinct, jolting Lucifer awake from his exhausted doze atop the scattered maps covering the conference room table. “You can’t just raid the break room fridge and take whatever you want, you asshole!!”

“Uh?” he grunts muzzily, “What _are_ you on about, Detective Douche?”

“Seriously? You’ve got my pudding cups scattered all over the place in here. I _pay_ for those.”

“Uh, well, I was rather hungry Daniel, as I hadn’t eaten all day yesterday,” Lucifer replies gently, “and… these actually had _my_ name on them?”

“Right. Because _you_ buy pudding and keep it in the precinct fridge.” He lifts up one of the empty cups, flourishing the peeled-back foil that clearly says “Lucifer” in block print. “What the hell? What did you do, remove my name and put yours on?”

“No?” he’s more confused now, but trying to explain. “I don’t know how they got there, but I _know_ no one else here is named Lucifer, so… I ate them.”

“He’s telling the truth, Dan.” Chloe’s tone is icy, and both men flinch in response. “When he got injured in the line of duty, a lot of the unis brought snacks for him rather than buying flowers, because they know how much he loves snacks. Now, are you-“

“Guys! The suit doesn’t fit!” Ella bounces excitedly into the conference room, waving a file folder. This earns nothing but perplexed looks from the other inhabitants of the room, so she continues with an explanation. “Literally or figuratively. The clothes Gary Van Blundt died in were, like, two sizes too big and a tax bracket more expensive than anything else in his closet. _They weren't his.”_

“Wait, so the killer forced Gary to change clothes before they pushed him out the window? But why?”

“Er...” Lucifer interjects, making a connection. “No, I don't think they made him change clothes. I think they made him put clothes on. I found something on the map last night. If you combine it with Miss Lopez's findings... I think I know where Gary was when the killer snatched him.” He indicates a section of the map with a lascivious smile.

“Oh, my gosh!” Ella gushes eagerly, “Can I _please_ come?”

******************************

Chloe glares up at the sign for the Willow Glen Nudist Sanctuary with the cheeky slogan, “Come One, Bear All”, with two _au naturale_ bears with strategically placed greenery at the top of the entry arch. She can feel a headache coming on already.

“This is perfect. Just perfect.” The argument with the entry guard has already taken too much of their time.

“Sorry, but rules are rules,” the man, who is thankfully _not_ naked, explains yet again. “You want to go inside, you got to get naked. Either that or get a warrant.”

“Fine, I'll get a warrant.” She snaps, turning back to her two compatriots. “Lucifer!”

“When in Rome, Detective.” He replies with a cheeky grin, totally unashamed with all of his clothes neatly folded and held in front of him.

“Please, put some clothes on. We are professionals.” Honestly, she really shouldn’t be surprised, she’s going to have to apologize to “Ella, see if you can get a warrant from Judge... Beckers.”

_Oh my God, they’re both just standing there naked._

_“_ Bucket list?” The tiny scientist suggests with a smile.

“Don't worry, Detective,” Lucifer sidles by her, skillfully shuffling his clothes into one hand while grabbing Gary’s photo from her as he hastens through the arch calling back over his shoulder cheerily, “Miss Lopez and I are on the case!”

She gapes after them in shock, trying (and failing) not to notice and appreciate the way his toned muscles move under that perfectly tanned skin.

She obtains her warrant and catches up with them in the hot tub, in time to hear Julian McCaffrey attempting to make his escape.

“So, if I can’t help you with anything else, I'm starting to prune.”

“Yeah, you are.” She approaches the edge of the tub as he stops on the stairs self-consciously. “What are you? A size 34 pant, 13 shoe?”

“Good guess. Why?”

“You are under arrest. Oh, and the precinct has a strong no-nudity policy, so put on some clothes.” She shoots a scalding look at her companions. “And you too.”

**************************

The Detective is still irritated with him, so she and Dan handle Julian’s interrogation while he heads back to Lux to check on his flat. He exits the lift to find Eve putting the final touches on the cleanup.

“Eve!” He greets her warmly. “Did Maze make you do the cleanup all by yourself?”

“No, she was here earlier, but she got a call about a bounty, so I told her I’d finish up. She hasn’t been gone long.”

“You two are getting on swimmingly, it seems?”

“Yeah,” the first woman smiles softly. “I think she’s good for me. And I hope I’m good for her.”

“I’m happy for you both, darling. You both deserve to be happy.”

“How are things with the Detective?”

“Ah, well. Complicated, as always. We’re in the middle of a case, so I’m afraid our conversation has needed to take a back seat for the time being.”

“You know…” she remarks tentatively, “I used to be just like you, with Adam. I wanted Adam to love me so badly that I devoted myself to becoming something I wasn't, in order to please him. I wanted to be Adam's ideal woman. But then I realized something: I was never going to be Adam's ideal woman because, spoiler alert... I'm not Lilith. I am me. I spent so much time trying to be whatever Adam wanted me to be, that I never once stopped to think what _I_ wanted, who I had been all along. Guess who helped me figure that out?” Her wide, melting brown eyes look up at him.

“If it's not me, this is a terrible story,” he jokes, uncomfortable with where this conversation seems to be going.

“It _was_ you.” She grins up at him, and squeezes his hand. “Lucifer, I was created from someone else's rib. I am literally a subset of another person. But you helped me realize that I can become my own person. You set me free. I just want to do the same for you. I see you pretending to be something that you're not. You don't have to. You're already perfect.”

“You think I'm pretending to be something I'm not?” He’s puzzled, because he had thought he’d been well on the way to becoming something, some _one_ better than he had been. Linda had been proud of him for the progress he was making. Was he wrong?

“Don't you?” She asks earnestly. His hand slides into his pocket in a nervous gesture, and he pulls out a folded slip of paper that hadn’t been there before. He looks at it, then up at Eve, then back to the paper.

“What?”

“Sorry, I have to go. It's a break in the case. Thanks for cleaning up – make sure Maze makes it up to you for leaving you to finish up alone.”

***********************************

He bursts in on the brainstorming session in the conference room, full of exuberance.

“So then what motive could Julian possibly have to murder him?” the Douche was asking frustratedly.

“Step aside, Daniel, because I've just blown this case wide open.” He slaps the tiny slip of paper down onto the table, pointing at it excitedly. “Just found this note in this pocket. And this is the suit that I wore or, more accurately, didn't wear at the nudist colony! Someone must have put it in there before I got my clothes back. Miss Lopez, do you remember a woman named Marigold?”

“Seriously?” Dan bursts out, “For all we know, someone could have put it in there at one of your latest sex parties.”

“Have you ever been to a sex party, Daniel?” he asks, honestly curious to know the answer. “We don't pass notes to each other.”

“I don't need to go to sex parties—”

“Guys, guys! Marigold wasn't a woman. It's one of Tiernan's ships.”

“And the Marigold docks in Saint Pedro tonight. That can't be a coincidence.”

***********************

“You awake?” Chloe asks, grinning sideways at him.

“Very funny, Detective.” He shifts in the passenger seat, his long legs surely uncomfortable in the small space.

“You know, we wouldn't have gotten this far without you. You did good, Lucifer.”

He gives her an uncertain look, wetting his lips with his tongue before venturing his question. “Do you think I'm different when I'm at work... to when I'm not at work?”

“Hmm...” she considers her answer for a moment before she gives it. “I think we are all a little different at work. You know, trying to put our best foot forward.”

“But you think the person I'm trying to be at work is... I don't know, dishonest?” his brow is furrowed, and she wonders where this worry is coming from.

“Do you like work?” She asks, curious. She had thought he’d been happy with who he was becoming.

“I do. I like work very much.” It isn’t difficult for her to hear something else behind his words. “Work makes me want to be...a better man, but... if I've never been that man before, then... is it even real?”

“Well, I mean, I think people are growing and changing all the time. I mean, look at me. Fifteen years ago, I was naked in a hot tub.” She smiles, remembering that earlier _today_ , she’d seen _him_ , naked in a hot tub.

“Mm, still one of my favorite films.” A mischievous smile glints in the dim light of the dock.

“Well... The point is... I never would've pictured myself as a detective or a mom,” she grins back at him and adds, “or a person with so many sensible brown shoes.”

“So many.” He agrees, chuckling

“Yeah. It just feels right. So... I think... if what you are doing and who you are at work feels right, then I think you know it's real.”

His heart expands in his chest. This certainly _feels_ real to him, it always has. He starts to respond, but then the action starts and a whirlwind of activity has them separating, Lucifer to chase after Julian, and Chloe to direct the team arriving on site to help capture the other men and help the victims of the trafficking ring.

“Julian, you're a slippery one, aren't you?” Lucifer calls after him, stalking him patiently through the warehouse. “But then again, most cockroaches are.”

“No! No!”

“You’re not so cocky now, without daddy's lawyers around, are you?” Lucifer holds him by the throat, eyes flaring red in the dim light. “Tell me, does he know what you've been up to?”

“Do you think my dad is any better than me?” the piece of human filth squeaks, “He's a wolf in sheep's clothing. In a fancy suit and a big smile... but at least I admit I'm a wolf. I mean, what kind of man pretends to be something he isn't?”

The echo of his own recent thoughts freezes Lucifer in place, and he takes a step back. “It's your lucky day. I’ve decided to leave your punishment to the police.” He loosens his hold on the man’s neck, and Julian kicks a stack of pipes, sending them rolling toward Lucifer and knocking him off his feet, giving Julian a running start.

Lucifer fights his way to his feet with a snarl, haring after him, but too late.

“Freeze!” He hears rookie Joan’s shaky voice call out, “LAPD, don't move!”

A gunshot rings out as Lucifer skids around the corner, his feet nearly slide out from under him in the wet slick of blood coating the floor. He catches himself against the wall, slamming against a switch that releases a wave of barrels on top of Julian, pinning him to the ground with an agonized shriek.

“No, no!” Lucifer spies Joan’s still form on the ground, the blood he’d slipped in still running from her cooling body. “No!” His large hand presses against the wound, maintaining pressure, but he can feel her soul is already gone. He waits there for help, unable to call for backup, as Julian continues to wail, unmoving, from under the barrels.

The medics arrive and make the official declaration. Lucifer watches as they bag the young woman’s body, her blood sticky on his skin, soaking his suit and squelching under his shoes. He stares after the gurney as they wheel her away, Chloe stopping briefly at his side, but moving on without a word of consolation or condemnation. He takes it hard.

Dan stops long enough to castigate him. “I can't believe you let him go.”

“For once I agree with you,” Lucifer’s voice shakes with rage, but Dan doesn’t notice. He’s too lost in his own misery to recognize it in another.

“You think you're helping Lucifer, but you're not. You're a wrecking ball and everything you touch turns to shit. First Charlotte, now Joan. When will you learn? Hmm? You're not one of the good guys.”

Dan stalks away, and doesn’t see Lucifer’s eyes burning bright. It doesn’t matter.

Lucifer soaks up the hatred Dan pours over him as nothing more than what a monster like him deserves. He already knows Dan is right. He isn't a good guy, he is _poison._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With this chapter, this story is already longer than Devil Don't Go, and I have no idea how that happened. I'll have the next chapter up in the next couple days, I'll be writing today to distract myself from the polls but I don't know if I'll manage to get everything down coherently that it's about to show me!  
> I do know this: you don't need to worry about Lucifer breaking Julian's back... The falling barrels have already done that, it just hasn't been made clear in the story yet.


	30. A Broken Little Doll

He’s utterly silent on the drive to the hospital, and Chloe keeps flicking concerned glances at him out of the side of her eye.

“Hey,” he flinches when she speaks, and she gentles her tone before she tries again. “Hey. This wasn’t your fault. Joan wasn’t your fault.”

“Isn’t it?” He muses darkly. “I had him in my hands. I let him slip away and now Joan is dead.”

“And Julian’s going to prison for a very, _very_ long time. And _we_ still have work to do – we need to question him to see if there’s anyone above him in this human trafficking organization. His father owns the company he was using to smuggle the women in, so we need to talk to Jacob Tiernan-“

“Yes, the loathsome little reprobate told me that his father is even worse than he is,” Lucifer growls, so low it’s nearly subsonic. “I’d be happy to speak with him…”

“We’re going to talk to Julian first,” Chloe points out. “Are you going to be okay with that? EMTs say he had no feeling in his extremities, so he’s not going to be in great shape for—”

“Oh, he’s already been given a taste of what waits for him in my realm,” An empty smile crosses her partner’s face, and she suppresses a shiver. “I’m quite sure he’ll tell you anything you’d like to know without my needing to say a word.”

The conversation being held in the hospital room is clear to Lucifer’s ears long before they reach the open door.

“If he pushed that release on purpose, you need to tell me, Julian. I can help get justice for what happened to you- even if you _are_ a cop-killer.”

“It was an accident!” Julian rasps shrilly, “It was an accident, I saw him slip and hit the wall! I swear!”

“What’s going on in here, Dan?” Chloe barrels through the door, taking in Dan leaning into the bedridden man’s face with a threatening demeanor. She watches as Julian’s eyes flick from Dan to Lucifer, widening further. His body and neck are wrapped in a brace, his legs and arms carefully positioned, but unmoving. He’d had a little bit of luck with those barrels landing on him- while he couldn’t move his limbs, he can still breathe without a ventilator.

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know! Just… please!”

“I’ll wait outside, shall I?” Lucifer growls quietly, and Chloe nods in agreement.

“Chloe.” Dan pulls her into the far corner of the room, away from the door and the occupant.

“What's up?”

“Julian's reaction. Does it look familiar to you?”

“Huh?” She tilts her head, flicking her gaze back to Julian, who’s watching the doorway nervously.

“Like people we've seen before after a certain consultant has been left alone with them?”

“What do you mean?”

“I think Lucifer did this on purpose.” Dan’s eyes widen manically as he spouts his latest ‘Lucifer is bad’ spiel.

“That's crazy. You saw the skid marks on the floor where he slid and hit the wall.” It was true. Forensics had looked over the scene while they were still there. The slip marks matched someone running, then sliding and coming to rest against the wall.

“You know what's crazy? How much Lucifer gets away with. I'm sick of it. Aren't you?” He rakes his fingers restlessly through his hair, spinning a circle as he does.

“Lucifer wouldn't do this. Dan, he couldn't control how those barrels fell, _even if he had pulled that switch on purpose!_ He could have been crushed under them, too. _”_ _Or at least, he could have, if he weren’t invulnerable._

“He would never take justice into his own hands? Especially because a cop was killed because of his stupid recklessness.” Dan is practically hissing into her face now and she takes an angry step forward, lowering her voice—even though she knows Lucifer can hear every damned word.

“You need to cut him some slack. You have had a target on his back ever since... well... Charlotte. I'm just not sure if you're looking at this objectively, that's all.”

“Like you are?” He spits, as he turns and storms from the room.

Lucifer stations himself a little way down the hall and a moment later Dan pushes past, shoulder roughly colliding with him. Lucifer allows it without acknowledging him, simply continuing to stare blankly straight ahead. Dan storms down the hallway, punching the wall as he passes, his heart full of hatred and helplessness.

************************

Chloe finishes her interrogation of a _very_ cooperative Julian with enough information to make a visit to Jacob Tiernan’s offices in the morning. She collects a subdued Lucifer from the hallway and they make their way back to the car.

“Do you want to come with me to talk to Tiernan at his office tomorrow morning?”

“Tomorrow is Sunday.”

“If you don’t want to go, it’s all right. I can handle him on my own. Julian was positive that his father will be there.”

“If that creature is truly worse than the one back in that hospital room, I will be happy to accompany you.” His tone is menacing and she glances at him again, noticing a faint glow in his eyes. She reaches across the console and places her hand over his.

He startles and his eyes meet hers, the fire drowning immediately under the flood of confusion she finds there. “ _Not your fault_ , okay? When we go in there, we’ve got to keep our temper. Tiernan has a lot of high-powered attorneys and a lot of pull with a _lot_ of people, underworld types included.”

“So do I,” he offers, but there’s no heat behind it. “But we’ll do it your way, Detective.”

“Lucifer…” she ventures hesitantly, “our conversation earlier, about trying to be someone you’re not? Where did that come from? Are you okay?”

“I… bloody Hell, am I never going to get away from that question?” He stops, considering his response for a moment and she squeezes his hand in silent support. “When I returned to Lux this evening, before I found the note in my pocket—Eve was there finishing the cleanup from their little gathering. I think perhaps Maze has been filling her ears with stories of how I’ve been changing since I’ve been here on Earth. Eve expressed some concerns that… that maybe I’m trying to be someone I’m not, in order to make myself more palatable to _you_. In the way that she had attempted to mold herself into Adam’s wishes for a perfect woman.”

He falls silent, and Chloe considers this for a moment with distaste at the underhanded twisted attempt at truthfulness. “So, after we talked, what do _you_ think about your reasons for changing? Because you have certainly changed, Lucifer. But, I had the feeling that you were starting to change well before you met me.”

“You’re right, of course. I had grown attached to Delilah and others before you came along, and Maze didn’t like it then, either. I started seeing Linda before you and I had a chance to get to know each other.” He’s silent for a long moment. “After our conversation, I thought perhaps… I thought perhaps my change _could_ be a good thing. But… now, with poor Joan paying for my mistake, I don’t-“ his voice chokes off, and he diverts his gaze out the passenger window. “I’m not meant to be _good_ , Detective. Every time I try, it only twists into something horrible. Just like me.”

Chloe fishes out her phone and sends a text before climbing into the car. Her phone chimes with a response and she checks the screen briefly, nodding to herself as she exits the parking structure and turns toward her destination.

“Detective, where are we going? This isn’t the way to the precinct…”

“You’re right, it’s not. You’ve just had a terrible experience, and you need to talk. We’re going to see Linda, and then you’re coming home with me.”

_****************************_

He reluctantly follows her from the car, but hangs back as she knocks on the door. He startles when Amenadiel answers with a warm greeting, gesturing them inside.

“Lucifer!” Linda emerges from her kitchen, looking worried. “I’m so glad you came! Please, let’s go in my office where we can talk.”

Lucifer glances suspiciously at Amenadiel, but follows unprotestingly. Chloe watches him go, a worried crease between her brows.

“Let’s go out on the veranda, Chloe. I’ll put some music on so Lucifer will feel more at ease without my eavesdropping on his session.” Amenadiel stops in the kitchen, turns on a radio and scoops up a fresh pitcher of iced tea and a couple of glasses as he follows Chloe outside, sliding the glass door shut behind him.

“So, you and Linda are still…?” she fishes awkwardly for a subject. She hasn’t spent much time with Amenadiel, aside from Lucifer’s convalescence.

“Yes, we’re good friends,” he smiles softly. “How is life treating you, Chloe?”

“It’s been a little wild, honestly.”

“Yes. I’ve wanted to thank you for having the bravery to bring my brother back.” He leans forward earnestly. “You were right, you were the only one stubborn enough.”

She barks a laugh, shaking her head. “I had a little help, my divinity gave me a little nudge on what I needed to do to get there.” She holds up a hand at the look on his face. “Please don’t ask me how, I have no idea and can’t even _begin_ to explain it coherently. It gave me what I needed, then kind of gave me a jumpstart to where I needed to go.”

“I’m glad,” he replies simply. “And my brother?”

“He’s having a bad day. I’m hoping Linda can talk him around. Something horrible happened at work, and I may have made it worse, and then Dan…”

“Dan is taking losing Charlotte very hard, isn’t he?” Amenadiel’s large frame seems to shrink into himself. “I wish that I could have saved her, could have spared him this pain.”

“Charlotte’s loss is no one’s fault but Pierce’s—Cain’s.” Chloe raps the table briskly. “I keep reminding Dan of that, and I’ll do the same for you if you have to. He was trying to kill _you_ , but Charlotte made her choice to _save_ you. Don’t squander that sacrifice with guilt. She wouldn’t like it, especially since she managed to achieve her goal and escape going back to Hell… even if it was a bit sooner than she anticipated. She worked hard for her redemption.”

“She did,” the angel agrees solemnly. “And I am honored to have had the privilege to escort her to the Silver City personally.

“Can I ask you something?” She focuses on the tea in her glass, swirling the cup so the ice clinks quietly inside.

“Of course, Chloe, anything.”

“I’m just… I’m only me, just a run-of-the-mill, Plain-Jane human. But, lately my life has been all… Celestials, and angels and demons and Satan and God and miracles and… just… is Eve okay? I mean, she’s not like, secretly bent on destroying the world, or avenging her son, or…? Because, I think I could like her.” _If she would just leave Lucifer alone._

“You’re far from plain, Chloe. You’re the only miracle child my Father has seen fit to place on Earth in all its history. You’ve managed to capture my brother’s previously impenetrable heart. Those things are only the tip of the iceberg of you… devoted mother, intelligent woman, tough cop, caring friend. It’s no wonder your father is so very proud of you.”

“Oh, thanks, but—” he tucks his chin and widens his eyes at her, waiting. Her eyes widen as she realizes what message he’s giving her. “ _Oh._ Thanks, Amenadiel. Really.”

“So, don’t underestimate yourself, hm?” She nods slowly, and he continues. “I don’t think Eve is here for any evil agenda, Chloe, she… doesn’t really have the capacity to plot that way.”

“What about Maze?” she persists. “I don’t know what exactly was going on between her and Lucifer, but I don’t think it’s resolved yet, and I can’t help but worry that she might be using Eve to set up more trouble.”

“What do you mean?” His eyes narrow in thought as he waits for her answer.

“She said some things to him, and now he’s—no.” She shakes her head, shutting down that line of thought. “I don’t want to break his confidence that way. I’m just worried about everything right now, especially _him_. Which is ridiculous, because he’s _invulnerable_.”

“Only when he’s not around you.”

“Oh.. he didn’t tell you?” Chloe’s eyebrows lift in surprise, while Amenadiel’s furrow in confusion. “We found out last week, he’s not vulnerable around me anymore. We thought maybe his divinity reset had something to do with it.”

“Does Raphael know?”

“I doubt it. He hasn’t been back for a while. Since before we made that discovery, anyway. Lucifer figured it was for the best.”

“Perhaps.” But the concerned look doesn’t leave his face, and the two friends sit in silence, sipping their tea and listening to the thin strains of music from the radio.

*******************

“What happened tonight, Lucifer?” Linda offers him a glass of water, and he represses a grimace as he takes it—better to have something to do with his hands.

“I… tried to be something I’m not, tried to be something _better_.” He forces the words from his tightening throat, and they emerge sounding strangled. “A bad man got away and he killed someone, a friend.”

“Lucifer, I’m so sorry that happened,” she begins slowly, taking in his pinched expression, eyes firmly fixed on the spinning glass in his hand to avoid staring at the blood on his sleeves, on his jacket, and pants. “But what happened wasn’t your fault.”

“That’s what the Detective said,” He barks a harsh, miserable laugh. “But she wouldn’t even _look_ at me afterward, couldn’t speak to me.”

“Is it possible that she was trying to deal with her own grief, her own guilt?” Linda leads him gently, trying to get him to take the bait and come out from his chrysalis of guilt and despair.

“I don’t—maybe,” he acknowledges slowly. “Daniel had plenty to say for the both of them, anyway.”

“I imagine he did,” Linda feels a fiery burst of fury at the man, though she knows he’s in a devastating amount of pain. She fights down her protectiveness of her patient, her friend, and approaches from a different angle. “Did you know what this man would do if he got the chance?”

“I knew what he _had already done._ ” He rumbles miserably.

“Tell me.”

He gives her a brief overview of the case, of what they had found at the docks and what Julian had said that had so resonated with Lucifer’s own confused thoughts, and of his decision to _not_ take his own punishment for this man’s sins, but to turn him over to human law enforcement. And the outcome.

“Did you know that the officer that was killed was nearby?”

“No.”

“Were they armed? Trained for these types of situations?”

“Yes, yes of course, but she was a rookie, still fairly green, you know. It wasn’t her fault.”

“I’m not saying it was her fault, Lucifer, I would never put fault on someone for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.” She tries to catch his eye, but he refuses to look up from the rippling water in his glass. “I’m saying that you couldn’t know what was going to happen. Julian made the choice to shoot that officer, just like he made the choice to kill the auditor, to traffic those women. _You_ tried to do what you thought was right.”

“Then why has it all gone so bloody _wrong_ , Doctor?” he practically wails. He places the glass on the table and shoves his hands into his hair, bent over so he’s nearly howling his misery into his knees. “It’s… it’s got to be _me_ , anything— _everything_ I bloody touch twists in my hands until what’s good is bad, what’s pure is tainted, what’s innocent is corrupt. I can’t… I don’t know how to do _any of this_.”

“I don’t know why good intentions sometimes land sideways, Lucifer. I wish I did.” Her voice is soft, and he slows his panting breaths to hear her better. “I wish I had a better answer for you, but no one could have predicted how this situation was going to play out. Everyone makes their own choices – no one knows that better than you. Sometimes those choices result in mistakes, or disasters, or truly wonderful outcomes… and sometimes it’s impossible to tell what it’s going to be until those chips fall. I’d like you to do something for me, Lucifer.”

“You’re asking for a favor? _Now?”_

“Not a favor, just… an exercise. An analysis, if you will.” He finally glances up, meeting her eyes for a moment before his gaze flickers away, brimming with pain. “How many murderers have you helped catch since you’ve been working with the LAPD?”

“I don’t see how-“

“Please, Lucifer.”

“I don’t know, several dozen, at least. Fifty?”

“How many times have you saved the Detective’s life?”

“I suppose that depends on the definition of the terms. Three? Perhaps four? Or five…” He tosses out the last number off-handedly as he thinks about it.

“How many times have you done something _good_ just because you wanted to? And how many times have you done something good without telling a soul about it?”

“I…” he looks up her, his fingers still entangled in his hair, eyes swimming with tears that he will not allow to fall. “It doesn’t matter Doctor, because I am, will _always be_ a monster.”

“Lucifer, a true _monster_ would never feel the emotions that you’re struggling with _right now_.” She wants badly to go to him, to comfort him with the hug that he so richly deserves, but this is a professional moment, not a personal one, and she must toe that line. “A monster would never question his motivations, or try to better himself, or care so deeply about others.”

“I’ve killed—”

“Has Chloe ever killed someone in the line of duty?”

“Of course she has, it’s her job to keep people safe, and she does it better than most. She had to kill that absolute tosser Malcolm to protect her Offspring, and I think that oaf that tried to shoot Mum and blow up the entire West coast died as well…”

“Are you suggesting then, that Chloe is a monster as well?”

“I would _never—_ ” he begins indignantly.

“Of course you wouldn’t,” she soothes quietly. “So… why would you say it about yourself?”

“Because…” he hesitates, “Because I’m the Devil.”

“You’re _Lucifer_.” She corrects him carefully. “The Devil is what your _father_ wanted you to be. You make your own choices and by your own words, all you’ve ever wanted was to be recognized for your own deeds, to be your own person. Isn’t that right?”

“It.. yes, that’s right.”

“Then maaaaaybeee,” she ventures, drawing the word out, “you can start by judging yourself that way? You can acknowledge that your actions may present options for other people, but what those other people choose to do really has very little—or nothing—to do with _you_. What would have happened if Chloe hadn’t shot Malcolm? Or the other fellow?”

“Well, Malcolm would have killed her and the Spawn. And if the Ruiz fellow had managed to shoot Mum, she would have exploded, killing a _lot_ of innocent people.”

“So, choices.”

“But…” he finally lifts his head, pushing his fingers the rest of the way through his hair, smoothing it out with little pats. “Bloody hell, I’ve argued myself into a corner, haven’t I.”

“Hmmm.” She quirks a smile at him, which he abashedly returns. “Better?”

“I’m sure I’ll have myself back in knots sooner rather than later, but… yes. Better, Doctor.” He heaves a sigh of relief as the tension in his shoulders abates somewhat. “Thank you. Our usual emergency rate?”

“Of course.” He stands and offers her a hand up, and _now_ she grants him the hug he so desperately needs. “Did you call my office today?”

“I did, and I _somehow_ managed to regain my old time.” He quirks an eyebrow down at her as she grins up at him. “Odd, that.”

“Mmmhm, must be some kind of miracle.” He snickers and she releases him, walking with him to the door of the office. They follow the music to the radio in the kitchen, finding Chloe and Amenadiel chatting lightly on the veranda. “Would you two like to stay for dinner?”

Lucifer is exhausted, but looks to Chloe for her answer.

“We’ve got an appointment we’ve got to keep tomorrow morning, and it has been a _very_ long day.”

“Of course. We’ll have to schedule something soon though, yeah?”

“That sounds wonderful. Thank you so much, Linda. Amenadiel.”

“Good night, Chloe. Luci.”

Lucifer merely nods, too emotionally drained to frame a response, and lets Chloe steer him out the door and into the car. She turns the key in the ignition and eyes him for a moment before pulling away from the curb.

“You awake?”

“Oh, _very_ funny, Detective.” He murmurs. “You’re never going to let me hear the end of that, are you?”

“Mmmm… probably not.” She chuckles softly, and his lips turn up in a small smile. “You’re okay?”

“I’m… better.” He admits readily. “Thank you.”

“What for?” she tilts her head in his direction curiously.

“Why, for _caring_.”

“Lucifer, of course I care about you.”

“Yes,” he muses quietly. “I just… back there, with Joan… you didn’t say _anything_ , you couldn’t even look at me, and I felt…”

“You felt… like I was running again.” He keeps his eyes focused on the passing lights outside the window, but gives a faint nod. She catches his bleak expression reflected in the glass. “Lucifer, I didn’t mean that as a judgement on you- nothing like that! _I_ sent you in there without backup, then sent Joan in there after you without any way to communicate to you where she would be. That was _my_ screw-up as first-on-scene.”

“Doctor Martin has just finished assuring me that I am not to be held accountable for Julian’s actions, only for my own. Therefore, I’m going to insist on the same criteria for you, darling. Otherwise, we may just devolve into a night-long iteration of screaming _‘Mea culpa!’_ at each other, and I bloody well intend on getting some decent sleep this evening.”

She giggles, and he offers her his hand. She takes it, and their fingers interlace, resting on the console between them. They stop at a drive thru for dinner, and the rest of the ride back to Chloe’s apartment is quiet, but not uncomfortably so.

***************************

It’s late by the time they finish eating, and Chloe simply drags him up the stairs to bed. He raises an eyebrow when he finds his maroon shirt draped carelessly across her pillow and she shrugs, flushing. “I had a nightmare. It helped, thank you.”

“You’re still having nightmares?” His gaze softens as he watches her.

“This is the first one that’s really woken me where I couldn’t get back to sleep again. I think there have been others, but I don’t think they wake me all the way, I just… don’t feel very rested when I wake up. This,” she produces the little bottle of his cologne and wiggles it in her fingers, “and the shirt have helped a lot with that. It was very thoughtful of you.”

“I’m glad that they helped you,” his voice is roughened with exhaustion, and she really _looks_ at him. His hair is a stress-induced mess from incessant finger-combing, and his suit is covered in blood. It’s not exactly wash-and-wear, either. He follows her gaze and grimaces. “I’m afraid I need a shower.”

“Go,” she agrees. “I’ll check Maze’s room and see if you left anything in there to wear.”

She hears the water start up before she’s even left the room, and absolutely does _not_ allow herself to think of him stepping into her shower, how the steam would wreath around him, causing his hair to break free into its riot of curls. Of how he looks emerging from the steam, wrapped in nothing but a towel. She shakes herself out of her reverie and focuses on the task of trying to find him some clothes that aren’t covered in blood.

Ten minutes later she returns to her bedroom triumphantly clutching a pair of silk boxers that had somehow gotten left in her to-be-folded laundry pile, and a complete set of scrubs that obviously came with him from the hospital- she’s not sure why, but she’s certainly not looking a gift horse in the mouth. She taps on the bathroom door. “I’ve found some stuff- it’s not your usual fare, but it’s better than… your current option.”

“All right,” he calls, “just toss them in, I’ll find them wherever they land.”

She cracks the door and tosses the neatly-folded pile onto the toilet lid- the most likely place they’d stay dry, then retreats.

Twenty minutes after that, Lucifer exits the bathroom, his hair smoothed back and fully dressed in the scrubs. Chloe tries to convince herself that she’s not disappointed.

“You okay?”

“No,” he replies honestly, “but I finally feel as though I’ve managed to remove the blood from my hands…” He gazes down at them, flexing his fingers slowly.

“Come on,” she reaches up and turns out her bedside lamp, leaving only the one on his side of the bed for illumination. “Let’s get some sleep so we can visit Tiernan in the morning and get this case closed.”

“Yes,” he hisses quietly, “that will be quite satisfying.”

He pulls back the covers and slides between the sheets, Chloe sighing silently at the comforting dip of the mattress under his weight. He reaches back and clicks off his lamp, then both lay quietly as sparkling afterimages dance between them in the sudden darkness.

“Thank you for finding some clothing for me,” he whispers.

“I’m glad there was something to find,” she chuckles, “though I’m sure you could have fashioned yourself a toga, if push came to shove.”

“I’ll have you know I look absolutely fetching in a toga. _And_ a kilt. My calves are utterly divine.”

“Technically, isn’t all of you divine?” He huffs at her, and she giggles.

“Of course I _am_ divine… though I suppose most of me would be considered infernal, at this point.”

“I disagree, but I’m too tired to debate you right now. Sleep.”

“Sleep,” he agrees. They each reach out a hand and entangle fingers, and Chloe already knows that they’re going to wake in the morning entwined again. Impatient, she rolls toward him, tugging his hand around her midriff and pressing her back against his chest. She feels him stiffen slightly, but she simply snuggles in and sighs contentedly. “Detective?”

“Is this okay?”

He scoffs slightly. “I think you know that it’s more than _okay_.”

“Alright then,” she agrees sleepily, “Good night.”

She feels him drop a kiss into her hair as he curls himself to fit the shape of her position. “Good night, love.”

************************

She wakes, confused, to a wash of cool air against her back. Lucifer’s arm is still curled around her stomach, but the arm over the top of her is missing. She rolls over and finds him awake, stretched on his back with a little space placed between them.

“Good morning, Detective,” He hasn’t been awake long, his deep brown eyes still clouded with sleep. “We’re going to need to have that discussion soon about us, you know—especially if we continue to share a bed. I don’t know what you were dreaming about… though I can likely hazard a guess… but it was quite possibly the most exquisite torture I’ve _ever_ endured.”

Her eyes slide from his face down his body, resting on the obvious bulge straining against the unyielding cotton scrub pants he’s wearing. Her breath catches and she notices him twitch at the faint sound she makes.

“Oh—why didn’t you wake me? I’m sorry, Lucifer, that was—”

“Did you not hear the part about the _exquisite torture_?” He asks with a smirk. “Come now, Detective, you’re a grown woman, surely you know something of the joys of delayed gratification?”

Normally she would be embarrassed, would flush and bluster and move away, but… _no more running_.

“Maybe a little,” she teases, and his smirk widens, lighting a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Maybe we can talk this afternoon, if all goes well with this interview?”

“By all means, then, let’s get to Tiernan!” He leaps from the bed, and grimaces at his clothing. “I can’t be seen in this, Detective. It’s… serviceable for sleepwear, if not preferable. But for going out in public, no. ‘Dr. Morningstar, MD’ is certainly not a look I’m willing to try.”

She laughs outright. “All right, let me get ready and I’ll take you Lux before we head to Tiernan’s office-“

“Er…” He hesitates, and she stops, raising an eyebrow at him in inquiry, “It may save some time if I go ahead? I can hop to Lux, get dressed, and be ready to go by the time you arrive.”

“Oh!” She realizes his intention with surprise. “You mean… use your wings to…?”

“Yes, precisely. Since the bloody things are back to stay, they might as well earn their keep from time to time. Do you want to pick me up, or would you prefer I meet you at his office?”

“You know, let’s meet at his office. It’s on the opposite side of town from Lux, so if you really want to save time—”

“I _assure_ you I do, Detective,” he purrs, and she laughs as she continues.

“—then we’ll do it that way.”

“Right. I’ll text you when I leave Lux then, shall I?”

She follows him down to her patio, because she hasn’t had a chance to really see his wings fully feathered- in Hell she was much more focused on breathing and convincing him to come _home_.

He glances back at her and she gives him a reassuring smile. He rolls his shoulders in a small shrugging gesture and his massive wings erupt from them with a disproportionately small whooshing sound of displaced air.

She looks closely, puzzled. He notices her scrutiny, and his feathers fluff a bit self-consciously. “They’re still a bit brittle from Hell- they don’t recover as quickly as the rest of me, and the ash—well, it leaves a bit of a residue. It takes time and several washings to rid myself of it entirely.”

“I’ll help you, if you want,” she offers tentatively.

 _“After_ we talk, Detective,” he declares firmly. She remembers the heat that washed through her when he touched her _intangible_ wings, and flushes a deep scarlet. 

“All right, after we talk.”

He gives her a confident grin, spreads his wings, and disappears. Chloe gapes for a moment, surprised. That’s… not what she expected at all.

******************************

“Mr. Tiernan, I know you’ve been made aware of your son’s injury last night while fleeing police, after he’d been caught red-handed operating a human-trafficking ring.” Chloe lays her first cards on the table, and waits for his response.

“What does that have to do with me?” Tiernan asks nonchalantly, not bothering to turn to look at the Detective or her partner, who has thus far remained silent. Content to let his dark gaze linger menacingly on this vile creature for the time being.

“Well, that's the interesting part.” Chloe continues frankly. “The ships he was using to smuggle his human cargo all belong to _your_ shipping company, and all had shipping manifests explaining his victims as employees of your organization. So it would seem that there’s a strong possibility someone in your company would be involved very closely with the ring.”

“My son worked with a lot of bad people. In fact, Julian wasn't exactly a good person himself, which is why I had to excise him from my business. You... you love your children, but at a certain point-- you have to let them...”

“Stand on their own two legs?” Lucifer interjects dryly. Chloe shoots him a look, and he subsides, continuing to glare balefully at the man.

“Mr. Tiernan, do you have any idea who among your employees may have been working with your son?”

“No.” The man’s voice is flat, uncaring. “I don’t keep track of my son’s associates.”

“You kept track of your son, though, didn't you?” Lucifer pipes up again, tauntingly. “Which is why you consistently bailed him out of jail. Always getting him out of trouble. He never learned, did he? In fact, some might say it's your fault he became a killer, a human trafficker. A _broken little doll.”_

“My son had a lot of friends, bad people. Not the kind of people decent folks like us would associate with.”

“Really? Because I had a little chat with Julian right before he shot a police officer in cold blood. He said that you were an even worse person than he was.” Lucifer slowly stands up, towering over the older man now. “I’m very good at picking up lies, Mr. Tiernan, and… I don’t believe he was lying.”

“Unless you have actual cause to charge me with something, this little chat is over.” Tiernan barks, backing out of the devil’s shadow.

“Lucifer—"

“Oh, I'm the devil, Tiernan,” Lucifer growls, “I have all the cause I need. Detective—"

“Get out.”

Lucifer takes a step closer to the man, and Chloe sees his eyes flicker red.

“Get out!” Tiernan roars again, and Chloe places her hand gently on Lucifer’s elbow, jarring him back to himself.

They leave the office, Chloe maintaining her hold on Lucifer’s elbow.

“What was that about?” she whispers urgently.

“Tiernan’s _stealing people_ , he’s taking away their free will, making _slaves_ of them!”

“But we have no proof. _Yet._ And now Tiernan's gonna double his legal defense now that you've hulked out in his office. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I… just… I can’t let him get away, Detective. The last time… something terrible happened. I… that can’t happen again, I couldn’t bear it.”

*********************************

“Mr Tiernan, the cops are back.” The secretary steps diffidently into the room, and Tiernan doesn’t bother to turn to acknowledge her.

“I have nothing more to say.”

“I'm here about your son.” Dan steps into the room, and the older man turns to meet his eyes squarely.

“Thank you, Margaret.” Tiernan dismisses the secretary, and turns his full attention on the Detective standing before him.

“It wasn’t _just_ an accident. Someone deliberately broke his back. And I know who it was.”

“Why haven't you arrested this man?” Tiernan’s voice is cold, as though he doesn’t care about the answer, but his eyes hold the intense focus of a stooping eagle.

“I don't have enough proof to put him in jail... but he needs to be held accountable for his actions. And I know you're a powerful man... a man who ruins his enemies.” Dan feels a twisted satisfaction in his chest as he imagines the kind of ‘accountability’ a man like Tiernan can swing in Lucifer’s direction.

“I'm listening.”

“Look. You could finally give him a taste of the punishment he deserves.”

“What is this man's name?”

“Lucifer Morningstar.”


	31. One of the Many Reasons

Chloe and Lucifer regroup in the parking structure after their meeting with Tiernan, planning their next moves.

“I’m not technically working today, but I want to catch up on some paperwork this morning- why don’t you head to Lux and I’ll meet up with you this afternoon? Dan’s supposed to get Trixie back to me today, but I don’t know exactly when… she might be with me, is that a problem?”

“Would you prefer we meet at yours? That way the Spawn will have a plethora of things to keep her occupied while we talk?”

“You mean, things that don’t involve your hot tub, or your first edition books?” Chloe smirks at him.

“Well, I’m also intending to call Maze and Eve up for a little chat today, so we can hash out whatever is going on in their collective little mind. I know something is eating at Maze and she’s obviously been sharing it with Eve—per our little discussion yesterday. I’d like to get to the bottom of that, if I can.” He shakes his head in frustration. “I really don’t enjoy being the reasonable one—how _do_ you handle it all the time?”

“I guess it’s just a talent,” She quirks an eyebrow at him. “Don’t let them get in your head, okay?”

“I’ll do my level best,” he snorts softly. “If I can settle whatever Maze’s problem is, then I’m going to see if I can convince them to go apartment hunting. Having some distance may do wonders for _my_ peace of mind.”

“I’ll text you when I leave the precinct? You can come by when you can.”

“I look forward to it.”

************************

Dan unlocks the door to Chloe’s apartment, depositing Trixie’s knapsack roughly against the hall table and causing a landslide of mail to slide off the side. He glances down at, huffs in annoyance and walks over the top of it, leaving the mess for later. Trixie slides in the door behind him, carefully latching it and glancing down at the pile, then after her Dad. She bends to pick it all up, noticing a stiff, fancy envelope among all the catalogues and boring bills.

The writing is super fancy, but it’s her name! She got some _real, grown-up mail!_ She sticks it in her pocket quickly and neatly stacks the rest back on the little table. She grabs her knapsack and makes a beeline for her room.

“I’m going to finish this project, Dad!” She hears a mumbled response from the sitting room, muffled by the sound of the TV.

Trixie drops her knapsack without bothering to unpack it and pulls the crisp envelope from her pocket, running her fingers over the flowing script.

 _It’s so pretty._ She only knows _one_ person who would take the time to write to her and make it beautiful. She carefully tears it open, glancing nervously at her closed bedroom door. Her Dad still seems so angry all the time, especially when Lucifer is mentioned… she can’t let him know. She pulls out the letter and straightens the thick paper, smoothing it with careful hands. She looks at the date at the top of the letter- he wrote this over a week ago – has it been sitting in the hallway all week? She scans the letter once then goes to her little bookshelf and grabs her pocket dictionary. One thing she loves the most about Lucifer is that he doesn’t talk down to her- he uses grown-up words all the time. She tries her best to remember them so she can look them up later, to see if she understood what he was saying right.

**Dearest Beatrice,**

**I know you are a clever child, so I won’t ask you if you recall our conversations from last night. I’m referring specifically to my return to my previous plane of residence, and the bargain you so shrewdly extracted from me. Much to my dismay, the conditions for both have been met just this morning.**

**I’ve been released from my promise to stay, so now I need to uphold the previous promise to go. I’m afraid my end of that promise is that I will not return to Earth during your lifespan, Urchin. You are with your father this weekend and I know he currently harbors no friendly feelings for the devil, so this letter will have to suffice as my farewell.**

**As to our deal, Spawn, I’m terribly sorry to inform you that I was unable to uphold my end. I did manage to discover what it is that I feel for your mother, but I’m afraid the realization came too late. I made a terrible mistake, and it made her greatly upset with me. I want to be clear- it was entirely _my fault_ , your mother is not to blame for this situation. It all rests on my shoulders. In an attempt to at least partially fulfill my part of the bargain, I did go to her, and I _did_ say the words, but I think the distance between us was too great at that point—she certainly wasn’t in the frame of mind to hear them, regardless.**

**I find myself surprised to _not_ be surprised that I will truly miss you—the _only_ human Offspring in the history of the universe to hold a soft space in the devil’s heart. Becoming your friend has been an entirely new and bright experience in my very long life, child, and I am absolutely certain that you will go on to do great things during your time on Earth. Or perhaps, on Mars (as you so desire). I cannot say that I will miss your sticky hugs, but I am a little surprised to realize that I will miss the freely offered affection that they seem to stem from. I also cannot say that I will miss the glitter, as I’m sure I’ll be finding _that_ particular blight attached to me for quite some time. I think it will probably make me smile when I do. I am glad we got to have our game night, Beatrice—and thank you for letting me win at cards. **

**All the best,**

**Lucifer**

**P.S. What- you thought I didn’t know about the cards?**

Trixie reads the letter once quickly, and doesn’t like what she thinks it means. She goes back to the beginning, this time looking up the words she didn’t quite understand.

 _No, this can’t be right. He can’t be gone- can’t have_ ** _left_**.

**_Lucifer? Are you there?_ **

She sends the text and stares at her screen hopefully, waiting for the dancing dots to tell her he’s responding. Nothing. She reads the letter once more, her quick mind going over it again. Her Mom hasn’t been sad or upset this week, except for Tuesday when she and Dad got into that fight. She wasn’t distracted or distant the way she had been when they went to Rome and Paris. No. Lucifer _has_ to still be here. She makes her decision, she’s going to check on him. She checks her messages once more, still no response so she pulls up the Uber app and orders a ride to Lux on her mom’s account, then quietly sneaks out her window.

***********************

Dan parks himself restlessly on Chloe’s couch. She’d sent him a text last night saying that she had something do this morning with her case then had a little paperwork to do at the precinct, but he hadn’t thought she’d be there _all day_.

He’s been restless since he left Tiernan’s office that morning. He’d left Trixie in the car to make that visit, then they’d gone out for brunch. Trixie kept shooting him little odd expressions, too old for her face. His Monkey has been through a lot in her time. Having two cops for parents has pretty much forced her to take on a more adult viewpoint of the world than most kids her age. She’s definitely still a kid, but she’s sometimes far too sensitive to everything going on around her, and he thinks she can probably tell that something’s not right with her dad.

He looks at the closed door and considers going in to talk with her, but… his mind really isn’t in the right space to have a real conversation. He’s been ricocheting so much between rage and depression and apathy and just _missing her so fiercely_ that he feels as though he’s got whiplash.

 _Maybe I should talk to someone._ Amenadiel? The way he’d felt, when Amenadiel had solemnly assured him that Charlotte was in Heaven… he hadn’t felt that peaceful since he got The Call. He always seems so calm. Maybe he can help him make sense of everything that’s going on inside his head. He glances again at Trixie’s closed door, remembering how upset she’d been when he’d totally lost his shit when she’d asked about Lucifer at dinner on Tuesday.

 _“What happened with Charlotte, it wasn’t Lucifer’s fault… Charlotte didn’t tell us about Pierce either, Dan!”_ Chloe’s reasoning voice echoes down the lines of his memory. He knows it’s true, Charlotte didn’t talk about current cases, and Lucifer really seemed like he had no idea that Charlotte had been investigating Pierce. He couldn’t have known what Pierce was planning. _But he should have said something_. The familiar rage rises in his chest, and his hands clench as he forces himself not to break something in Chloe’s apartment to alleviate it. All the breakable things in his apartment have already been broken and thrown away. Trixie had remarked on how bare it was looking when she arrived on Friday. Only her room had remained unscathed.

He manages to redirect himself with the gratifying thought that Lucifer was going to get some form of retribution from Tiernan. He can hardly wait to find out what form it takes.

Chloe finds him there half an hour later, lost in happy thoughts of the many possibilities of Lucifer’s punishment.

***********************

Lucifer arrives back at his penthouse to find his liquor order has _finally_ arrived. He sends messages to Maze and Eve and receives their confirmations. Maze is finishing up a bounty, but is confident she’ll be by sooner rather than later.

Lucifer takes off his jacket, slinging it over the back of the couch and turning on his sound system as he busies himself with refilling his liquor shelf, blissfully sampling his newer choices as he goes. He’s opened the last crate when the elevator chimes and he looks up to find Eve standing hesitantly in the open doorway.

“Hiya, Luce,” she waves shyly. “Maze said her bounty’s taking a little time to wrap up.”

“Well, we can wait, I suppose. I did want to talk with you as well, so maybe we can discuss my changes, and the reasons behind them.”

“You mean Chloe?”

“The Detective may be one of my reasons, but I was here for five years before I met her, and I had already started to change. Maze didn’t like it, that I was starting to _care_ about humanity… though I thought that recently she may have started to change her mind, at least a little. The Detective is important to me, that is absolutely true, but I am trying to be better than what Father tried to force me to become, to be who _I_ am. I _like_ who I’m becoming.”

“I just want you to be the best version of yourself. You know? That devil I met in the garden. I held myself back for so long and I can see you doing the same... and I think it’s because of her. I just think she might be a little too involved in your life.”

“That is _preposterous._ ” He rolls his sleeves back down, fastening the cuffs, “I’ve been working with Doctor Linda to help get myself untwisted and be… _happy_. I’m so much closer now than I’ve ever been, Eve, and I’ll thank you to _butt out of it_.”

The elevator chimes again and he turns, eyes brimming with rage as he expects Mazikeen to exit the lift.

 _“Lucifer!”_ Trixie hurtles from the car and thuds into his midriff, clinging tightly to him as her body heaves with ragged sobs. He releases a soft huff as she collides with him, but he’s steady on his feet. His brain takes a disconnected moment to register just how _much_ she’s grown since he’s known her—her face no longer awkwardly level with his belt buckle, but now able to press directly between his hip and the bottom of his ribs. One of his hands pats her shoulder, the other rests gently on the back of her head, pulling her closer automatically.

“Who's this?” Eve sounds as though she’s suppressing laughter, and he glances at her with narrowed eyes. _Her_ eyes are as wide as they can go and sparkling with humor. The hand covering her mouth doesn’t hide the wide smile it’s attempting to cover.

 _“This_ … is the detective's offspring.” He feels the warmer spot on his shirt where her tears are starting to soak through the fabric, and he mentally mourns the loss of yet another piece of clothing. He doesn’t let the annoyance bleed into his voice, though, as something is very clearly troubling the child. “Beatrice? What are you doing here? What’s wrong, Urchin?”

A muffled wail is all that emerges from the nest of fabric she’s currently hiding in, and he decides to give it another moment before he tries again. Eve heads to the bar and pours herself a drink, content to watch the devil’s discomfort in dealing with a distressed child.

“Are we going to make a habit of your flinging yourself at me in fits of tears, Spawn?” he redirects gently. “This is the second time it’s happened in just a few weeks now…” Eve’s smile widens and Lucifer shoots her a look that plainly says _‘And we will never speak of this again.’_

“I got your letter,” The child’s voice is small and broken, and he sucks in a breath at his realization of why she’s here, and upset.

“Beatrice, really—I did _try_ to uphold my end of your bargain. Dad’s honest truth, I did! My timing was terrible as always, and I did manage to—”

“I’m not worried about the _deal_ , you dummy, I _thought_ you were _gone!”_

“Well… but of course I was gone. I told you as much in the letter. You know I don’t lie.”

“But you’re here. You said you weren’t coming back!” She pulls back a little to glare up at his face, but doesn’t let him go.

“Hang on.” He narrows his eyes at her, thinking. “You’re not here because you’re upset I broke your deal. You’re here because you’re upset I left.”

 _“Duh,_ ” she snaps, “I _love you.”_ As though that should be the most obvious thing in the world to him… and yet he still can barely wrap his mind around it.

“You really are a remarkable child, Beatrice.”

She squeezes her arms tighter around him again. “I’m so glad you’re here, I didn’t _want_ you to be gone. I didn’t think you were, because Mommy wasn’t sad.”

“It’s your mother’s fault I broke my promise and came back, anyway. She came to _get me_ , you know. And then I had to help her get back here.”

“It was a stupid promise,” Trixie complains good-naturedly. “You’re staying now, right?”

“I don’t think so, kid.” A new voice sounds from the stairwell, and he whirls to meet it. A broad-shouldered man with far too much hair for proper grooming stands in the entrance, steadily pointing a gun at the pair of them. “I didn’t think there’d be anybody else here, but… can’t leave any witnesses.”

*****************************

Chloe walks in the door and finds Dan zoned out on her couch, a grim smile on his face. “Hey. Dan.”

“Oh. Hey, Chlo’. How's the case going?” He stands up, stretching a little as he does.

“We know who was helping Julian but...we don't have proof.” She sets down her bag, removes her jacket and picks up the enormous stack of mail she hasn’t bothered to deal with for the past week.

“Who is it?” 

“Er, Julian's dad, Jacob Tiernan.”

“Jacob Tiernan.” His blood runs a little cold and he nervously wets his lips. _Oh, shit_. “What, he was involved in all that? The trafficking, the murder? You're sure about that? I mean, I didn't think he was capable of... of that.”

“There’s no one else at the shipping company with even the smallest ties to Julian. It _has_ to be him, he’s just _really_ good at covering his tracks.” Chloe finishes going through the stack of mail, frowning as she goes through it again. “Where’s Trixie? Trix??”

“She said she had a project to work on, we’ve been here for a while, we came back right after brunch.” Chloe barrels past him and slides Trixie’s door open, revealing an empty room, with an open window.

“Trixie.” She bends and picks up an envelope addressed to her daughter in perfect, calligraphic penmanship. “Shit. I meant to pull this out before she got it. She’s gone to Lux, I’m sure of it.” She pulls out her phone and pulls up her Uber app. “Yep. I really need to figure out how she keeps getting past my lock…” She looks up and sees the look of abject terror on Dan’s face.

“Dan, Lucifer would _never_ hurt Trixie. Not ever. I mean, we need to have a discussion with her about this running off thing, but she’s perfectly safe with him, and—”

“We need to get there, _now_.” Now. Now is the perfect time to panic.

“Dan, what are you talking ab—”

“ ** _Now_** , Chloe!!” Her phone rings, and she glances at the screen, relaxing immediately. She holds it up to show Dan. “See? He’s calling now.” She swipes to answer with a relieved smile.

“Lucifer, your timing is fantastic. Is Trixie—?”

“Detective- Chloe, it’s Eve.” Her low voice is quavering and Chloe’s heart seizes up. “Trixie’s been injured- someone broke into the penthouse and he shot the place up, and…”

“What.” Chloe chokes out. _“Where is she?”_

“Lucifer flew her to the hospital!” Eve’s voice breaks a little. “There was blood and he just… he knocked the guy out and left him here and told me to call Maze. She’s coming but… Lucifer left his phone and I knew you would be worried, and—”

“Okay.” Chloe takes a deep breath, but her heart is about to burst from her chest. “Okay Eve, I’m going to send some officers to Lux to get a statement, and to take care of the shooter. If he wakes up… do you have a way to secure him?”

“Lucifer handcuffed him.” Chloe doesn’t think about _why_ Lucifer has handcuffs.

“Do you know which hospital he went to?” Just then an incoming call beeps in, it’s dispatch. “Hang on, Eve.” She clicks over, and the dispatch officer calmly informs her that her partner phoned in from Cedars-Sinai to let her know her daughter was being treated for a laceration on her thigh. She thanks the officer and informs her of the situation at Lux, which Lucifer had also already reported, officers have been dispatched. She hurries to put her jacket back on and grab her keys, completely ignoring Dan as she clicks back to Eve. “Okay, officers are on the way- just sit tight okay? We’ll call you if the plan changes, and you can call me with Lucifer’s phone if you need us.”

She disconnects the call and turns to close the door behind her, nearly bumping noses with Dan right on her heels. He quails at the look of cold rage on her face, he still has an all-too-clear memory of that face from when he confessed to the Palmetto scandal.

 _“You_ knew something was going down. Get in the car, and you’re going to tell me _everything_ on the way to the hospital.”

**********************

“This is your one chance to leave here unscathed,” Lucifer growls, shoving Trixie behind him as he tries to angle himself to shield both Eve and Trixie. “I suggest you take it—you have _no idea_ who you’re dealing with.”

“Maybe you shoulda thought about that before you went and messed with Tiernan’s kid, buddy.” The bearded thug shrugs casually. “He says to tell ya thanks for making it easier to keep the kid in line, but he can’t let it stand.” He pulls the trigger and between the click of the trigger and the roar of the gun, Lucifer’s wings explode from his shoulders, once again shielding the innocent from an ensuing hail of bullets.

This time, _oh this time_ there is no excruciating agony as the bullets penetrate flesh, only the sounds of Lucifer’s enraged roar, shattering glass and a cry from Trixie as his wings drive her backward to Eve’s protective arms. Lucifer shields them, allowing the shooter to empty his clip before he crosses the room in a single aerial pounce, dislocating his arm and driving the gun from the pterrified second-rate assassin’s grip. The sweeping curve of his wing snaps forward, whipping the man’s head to the side and rendering him unconscious with ease.

 _“Ow,”_ the tiny exhalation reaches him over the rage ringing in his ears, and he turns back to his friends in alarm. Trixie looks up, taking in the billowing expanse of white wings, glowing red eyes, and sees nothing but her friend Lucifer, a look of concern rapidly growing on his face as his eyes fade back to their normal deep brown. “Wow, that was _so cool!!”_

The devil’s eyes are glued to the blood slowly trickling between the fingers she’s holding to her thigh, and his voice is strangled when he speaks. “How badly are you hurt, Beatrice?”

“It’s not too bad,” she assures him, but he’s already moving, gathering a clean towel from below the bar and gently lifting her hand. The slice is long, and deep- she must have landed on some glass from one of the broken bottles- and he folds the towel and presses it against the wound before carefully pressing her hand over it.

“Hold that there. Harder than that, Spawn, the point is to keep the blood _inside_ you, I think. I’m going to secure Lee Harvey over there, and then _you_ , young human, are going to the hospital.”

It takes less time to do than to say, and after Eve assures him once more that she’s fine, he scoops Trixie into his arms and disappears.

**************************

Chloe rushes into the hospital room to find Trixie calmly sitting on the edge of a bed with a snowy bandage wrapped snugly around her right thigh, sucking on a lollipop as she explains the intricacies of something to a frazzled-looking devil. He’s scraping the last bits of chocolate pudding out of the bottom of the tiny hospital-issued cup with his finger as she walks in, catching Trixie’s last few words

“-not _exactly_ a cast, but you could definitely still sign it! Mommy!” Trixie exclaims cheerfully and Lucifer startles, eyes flying up to meet hers, removing his finger from his mouth with a tiny _pop_. Chloe’s heart finally unclenches, seeing them both safe and sound. For everyone’s sake, she manages to stay calm when Dan enters the room and immediately crosses to give his daughter a hug. She’s agreed _not_ to tell Trixie what he admitted to her in the car, with the understanding that _he_ will tell Trixie as soon as they’re alone together. It's likely going to come out once they bring Tiernan in, so they agreed it would be better for Trixie to hear it directly from Dan. She had agreed to let him decide exactly what to tell her, since she really has no room to judge him, with her own serious lapse in judgement still so very fresh in her mind.

Lucifer slowly stands and carefully sidles from the room, trying very hard to be inconspicuous... which is clearly not easy for the 6-foot-3 devil. He crosses the width of the room with all the care of a man traversing a live minefield. Dan pulls away from Trixie and turns to him, holding out a hand in a placating gesture.

"Hey, man- you can stay. I-- thank you. For Trixie, thank you." Lucifer tilts his head curiously in Dan's direction and nods, accepting the thanks, but continuing to inch toward the door.

"Of course. You're welcome, of course. I'm very... fond of your offspring, after all. I don't want to intrude, though, so I'll just be--"

"Wait with me in the hall?" Chloe suggests hopefully, catching his hand and squeezing it as he brushes past her. "Dan wants to talk to Trixie, and they told me they're bringing her release paperwork and then we'll be free to go."

Dan had asked her on the way to the hospital if he could have Trixie tonight, and tell her then. Chloe really didn't want Trixie out of her reach, and thought that having Lucifer nearby might help her daughter with the news she was about to receive... But decided to give Trixie the choice. She had shouldered the responsibility of telling Lucifer what Dan had done. Though she knows Lucifer would never hurt Dan, she has an idea that the idea of yet another plot against him is going to hit him hard. _And Dan doesn't even know the truth about him_ , she thinks dejectedly as she leads Lucifer down the hall with her, preparing herself for the difficult conversation ahead. _Jesus, no wonder his walls are so thick, he needs them to be._

She pulls him into a small room with a vending machine and lets the door swing shut behind them before wrapping him in an embrace. "Before anything else, thank you for saving her."

"The doctors assured me it was not a truly serious wound, Detective-"

"Not that- but thank you for that, too. I mean, for saving her from the gun-wielding asshole that was trying to kill all of you. Don't think I didn't notice the bullet holes in the shirt, Lucifer."

"Well," he brushes it off, "it was already ruined from your offspring soaking it with tears and Dad knows what else before he showed up. What's a few bullet holes?"

"She was crying before the shooter came in?" Her face screws up in confusion.

"She apparently found my goodbye letter and immediately set out to my apartment to verify. She truly is your daughter. I..." He hesitates, "I hope you know that I would do anything to keep her safe."

"I do know. And it's only one of the many reasons why I love you, Lucifer." She rests her head against his heart, drawing in the strength she needs to begin this conversation.

"Oh." He murmurs quietly. "Oh, well that does make sense then."

She looks up and tries to meet his eyes, but he's gazing over her head, back toward the to where they left Trixie and Dan.

"Oh, damn. He's telling her now, isn't he?"

"He is. Is that what you brought me in here to tell me? That Dan told Tiernan I'd crippled his son on purpose, and that's why he sent his hired goon?"

"Did you already know?"

"I certainly hadn't suspected Detective Douche. But the thug Tiernan sent had delivered a little message that made me suspect someone had been in touch with him. There was no way Daniel could have known what Tiernan was capable of, or that your offspring would be literally caught in the crossfire." Lucifer's voice is deadly calm, and utterly flat. She knows him well enough now to realize that means he's got a vice grip on his emotions. She hugs him harder.

"I take it she didn't want to go with him this evening?"

"No, she wanted to go home. She... She's asking for me?" His lost eyes flicker down to meet hers and she chuffs a watery laugh against his already ruined shirt.

"We'd best be getting back, then."


	32. Hallmark Family Moment

They reach the hospital room door just as Dan exits to come find them at Trixie’s request. Lucifer gives him a cool nod that tells Dan clearly that he’s been informed of the situation behind his uninvited guest, then pushes politely past him into the room, where Trixie wastes no time in affixing herself to his torso yet again. Chloe and Dan hover in the hallway while Lucifer has a murmured conversation with their daughter.

“Yes, Beatrice, I’ve been told.” He stifles a sigh and seats himself gingerly on the mattress next to her. The shirt was already ruined, and her current upset is certainly not her fault. “I’m sorry you were stuck in the middle of such a frightening situation, but your father had no way of knowing that would happen – and most definitely not that you would be present when it did.”

“That man came to _hurt_ you because of something _my dad_ did!” She bawls into his chest, and he mentally flails for a moment before an appropriate response comes to him.

“Your father made a mistake, child,” he pats her shoulder, thinking to himself that he’s actually getting quite good at this consolation lark. “Unfortunately, they’re a fairly common occurrence in life. He made a choice while he was in a great amount of pain, and that affects how we behave. Sometimes those choices result in mistakes, or disasters, or truly wonderful outcomes… and sometimes it’s impossible to tell what it’s going to be until those chips fall.” He recognizes the words as they fall from his lips, and they resonate more deeply than they did before… when the discussion was about _his_ choices, _his_ mistakes. It’s easier to recognize now that he can look at it through the lens of Daniel.

“Daddy was hurt?” she sniffles wetly, and he suppresses a wince at the sound.

“Oh, yes. Your father is still struggling to get over losing dear Charlotte. I think perhaps he forgets, sometimes, that Charlotte was important to me as well—in a very different way, mind. We both lost her, but _his_ loss was a different sort entirely, and… well, I think perhaps he’ll have to decide for himself if he wants some help dealing with that.”

“You knew Miss Charlotte, too?”

“Indeed. We were… like family.”

She rests her head against his chest and sniffles again. “I’m sorry you lost her.”

He huffs a soft laugh and gives her a light squeeze. “Thank you, child, but I know she’s in a good place now.”

“Is she in Heaven?”

“She is, Beatrice. My brother Amenadiel took her there himself.” He smiles softly, remembering how proud of himself Amenadiel looked when he returned from that little jaunt.

“Am I going to Heaven?”

“Not for a long, long time child. And your mother as well.”

“What about Daddy? Will you visit us?” This conversation has taken an unexpected turn, and he finds himself craning his neck to spy the Detective, but she and Dan are speaking with the nurse in the doorway, going over release paperwork.

“Your father’s destination is up to him, Offspring. If he pulls himself together, it’s still a very real possibility for him.”

“And you’ll be there, too?” She persists.

“Ah… no I, I won’t. I’m afraid it’s off-limits for me, Dad’s rules and all.”

“What? _Why?”_ her voice has gotten louder and he shushes her gently.

“All part of being the Devil, darling. I’ve access to Hell and Earth, but Heaven is a big No-Fly Zone. I can assure you, you’ll be quite happy there.”

“I’m not going if you’re not allowed in.” She squeezes him tighter, and he’s torn between laughter and horror. The Detective will never forgive him if her Spawn spurns Heaven because Lucifer can’t visit. Not that Azrael would ever escort Beatrice to Hell—not if she knows what’s good for her. “I’ll start asking God tonight to let you back in.”

“Ah, okay. Do that, child, it’s… a good start.” The devil heaves a quiet sigh at a crisis averted. Chloe and Dan walk in the room and he lights up in relief. “Detective! Could you please pry your offspring off me, now? Are we ready to leave?”

“Yeah, we can go. Trixie will need to come back in a couple weeks for suture removal, and we need to stop at the pharmacy for some antibiotics on the way home.”

“Trix… I’ll, uh, see you Friday?” Dan ventures tentatively. The girl watches him solemnly for a moment before looking back at Lucifer, who merely lifts a brow.

“Okay,” she agrees, and the adults in the room collectively sigh in relief. “If you need to talk about anything though… call me.” Lucifer’s other brow lifts to join the first and he turns his head to hide his smirk. This human child is just _full_ of surprises.

“Thanks, Monkey,” a wavering smile crosses Dan’s face. “I think… I’m gonna make an appointment to talk to somebody soon.”

“Good,” Trixie slowly releases Lucifer and slides off the bed, gingerly putting weight on her leg as she hobbles over to hug her dad briefly. “I don’t want you to hurt anymore.”

Dan glances at Lucifer, then back down to his daughter in consternation. He hugs her tightly, but lets her go easily when she pulls away sooner than she usually would. Chloe looks at her daughter with pride written across her face, and Lucifer does his best to pretend he’s anywhere else but stuck in this Hallmark Family Moment.

“Well, it’s been lovely Detectives, Urchin. Shall we? I’m sure they can use this room for some other poor injured sod.”

The sun is setting as they exit the building, Lucifer unsuccessfully trying to shake Trixie’s clutches from his hand. Chloe’s phone rings and she answers after glancing at the caller ID, walking away from the group and speaking in terse sentences. Her head snaps up and she flicks a glance at Lucifer, who flashes a feral grin back at her. The tension runs out of her spine and she turns back toward them, thanking the caller before disconnecting the call. “Nice work, partner,” she murmurs as she approaches.

“Our thug’s name is Greg Grabowski, aka Pony Boy. He’s been singing about all sorts of things that Tiernan’s been up to. Unis already have him in custody.”

“Ah, that’s wonderful,” Lucifer oozes innocently, “I know _I’ll_ certainly sleep better tonight knowing that creature is behind bars.”

“Mmhm,” Chloe smirks at him. “C’mon, let’s go home.”

Lucifer tries to peel off from the group, but Trixie refuses to let him go. “Urchin, you may recall that I _don’t_ actually live with you?”

“Come for dinner?” Chloe wheedles, and Trixie immediately adds her plea as well.

“Detective, I have been cried on, sniveled on— _twice!_ Shot at, and bled on. I _need_ a shower and change of clothing before I do anything else.” Chloe takes a moment to _really_ survey him, and he does look like he’s had quite the day.

“You’ll come over, when you’re done? We still need to talk.”

His dark eyes flicker over Dan and Trixie before meeting hers. “Yes, I’ll be there once I’ve showered and changed. What should I bring for dinner?”

***************************

Mazikeen is waiting at the piano when he arrives, pacing angrily.

“Relax, Maze, the fellow is in jail, and the creature that sent him, as well. And the Detective’s Offspring will be fine after a couple weeks of healing.”

“Are you _sure?_ ” the demon hisses, flipping the knives between her fingers.

“The human doctors seemed to be. The wound was clean, at least, and you would have been proud of how she handled herself as they patched her up. She was asking the doctors very hopefully if it would leave a ‘cool scar’.” Her hooded eyes meet his and he nods, relieving her fears for her favorite human. “Now, why are you here, Mazikeen?”

“You tell me,” she shrugs, leaning against the piano. “You wanted to talk.”

“Ah, right.” He re-orients himself, remembering that he’d invited Maze before the gunman had arrived. “Have you checked in with Eve?”

“Yeah, she’s good. She’s downstairs soaking in the tub. I told her I’d join her once I talked to you.” She grins at him, and he nods.

“I need to know if we’re okay, Mazikeen.” He sits, straddling the piano bench. “We hadn’t quite gotten back to solid ground from the Cain debacle when my poisoning came along, and then the return to Hell, and I feel like you’ve been feeding Eve some strange ideas about my life here.” His eyes lock onto hers, and flicker faintly red. “Do _not_ lie to me. Are you still working against me? Or are you out for the Detective’s blood now?”

“How many times are you going to let her turn against you, Lucifer?” Maze explodes, turning and flinging one of her knives. It chocks, quivering in the wood of his bookshelves as Maze turns back to him eyes burning with fury. “She almost _killed you_ , then she sent you running back to Hell with nothing more than a _word_. How much power does she have over you?”

“How many times have _you_ betrayed me now, Maze, hm? I’m afraid I’ve lost count, should we tally them up?” He roars back at her, eyes burning bright. “I’d rather not keep score, because the only thing I know for bloody certain is that _I’m always on the losing side!_ For millennia I could count on you in Hell to defend me against your own kind, but I bring you to Earth and a few short years later you’re queuing up to see who you can betray me with next!” He sucks in a deep breath, but doesn’t break eye contact with his former sentinel. “Whatever power Chloe has, or does not have over me is only as much or as little as _I_ grant her. Linda taught me that. Now she’s teaching me this: I’m _choosing_ to stay here. I’m _choosing_ to change, to become something… _better_. I’m finally deciding to reach for some happiness in my life, and Mazikeen I will bloody well be damned again if you think I’m going to let you take this chance away from me.” He stands now, towering over the demon, her eyes following his movement silently. “If you _want_ to go back to Hell, you merely need to say the word, to myself or Amenadiel. Either one of us will take you. But if you stand in the way of my happiness, Maze, if you continue to backstab and plot and betray my trust at every opportunity, I _will not wait for your permission._ Are we clear?”

She narrows her eyes, body tense, weighing his conviction as he watches her think.

“Fine,” she snaps, the tension leaving her body. She turns and retrieves her knife, flicking it between her fingers once more. “Don’t come crying to me if she poisons you again.”

“Deal,” the devil agrees wearily, and the demon laughs darkly as she descends the stairs. He calls after her, “Find a new apartment, Maze! I want my privacy back.”

“Yeah, yeah, Chloe doesn’t want company while you’re boning. Got it,” the words echo back up the staircase and he shakes his head, snickering to himself. _She’s not wrong._ He glances around his flat, noting that Eve had apparently cleaned up the mess of broken glass and blood before retreating downstairs. He takes a moment to mourn the brand-new bottles of untasted whiskey that had been destroyed by the bullets ricocheting from his wings, but he can’t be too sorry—each broken bottle is one less bullet that had a chance of striking Beatrice, or Eve. He looks down at his ragged button-down, sighing heavily at the lecture he’s going to have to deal with from his tailor. _Maybe I can get Patrick to place that order for me…_

He makes his way to his bathroom, shedding fabric as he goes, and takes a very long, _very hot_ shower. He’s nearly done with the difficult conversations now, only the ones with Chloe remain. He knows she has more questions about… well honestly, _everything_. And he wants to tell her, wants her to know _him_ , despite the soul-deep fear that every new bit of information could cause her to run again. He tilts his head back, letting the falling water sluice over him as his thoughts drift.

 _Bloody hell, how do humans do this? It almost seems easier to face an angry demonic horde than let down these damned imaginary walls Linda insists I’ve put up._ And it’s almost funny, because he can practically _feel_ them now, as they’re starting to crumble and cave. He can _feel_ the cracks and chinks and outright holes where his emotions are starting to bleed out, to escape, to be free and bloom in the light outside of the darkness of his heart where they’ve been trapped for so very long. It feels as though he’s been trapped inside those walls, too, chipping away hopelessly until finally, _finally_ —someone heard him chipping away and starting chiseling away at the other side. That _someone_ had been the Detective.

 _“Thought you could use a friend.”_ She’d said, as she settled onto the piano bench beside him after the death of Father Frank.

“ _Do you play?”_

 _“Mm.”_ She’d smirked at him sidelong. “ _No. No, I don't.”_

But she had. They’d played together, that simple, silly little song, and he’d had a _friend_. And then more had come to chip at his walls. Linda. Beatrice. Miss Lopez. Even, on occasion, Daniel the Sometimes-Douche. It hurt. Those walls were made of pieces of himself, after all—put in place to protect himself from pain, so it only makes sense that finding himself again, becoming a _better_ version of himself would also involve pain. Eventually he shuts off the water and emerges from his musings to get dressed and go to dinner.

**********************

Chloe is pulling a simple dinner of cheesy chicken and rice from the oven when he knocks on the door. Dan is long gone-- Chloe hadn’t even given him the option of coming into the apartment when they returned—and Trixie is resting on the couch with her leg propped up at her mother’s insistence. Her head pops over the top of the couch like a prairie dog at Lucifer’s knock, but Chloe shoots her a warning look and she doesn’t get up.

“C’mon in, Lucifer!” she calls down the hall, knowing he can hear her without any trouble. He tentatively opens the door and walks in, carefully closing it behind him. “I’m in the kitchen, make yourself comfortable.”

“I brought the rolls you asked for?” his head pops over the bar, offering them up for inspection.

“Ohh great, I’ll just pop them in the oven and we’ll be ready to eat in a few. Trixie’s in the living room, I’ve got her elevating her leg, just to be on the safe side.”

He deposits the rolls on the countertop and goes to stand behind the couch, checking on the child. She grins up at him, coloring on her lap desk as he studies her.

“Feeling all right, Urchin?”

“Not too bad!” she chirps, “But Mom says it’s just that the pain meds they gave me haven’t worn off yet. We got some other stuff at the pharmacy for when it does.”

“No, we got your antibiotics from the pharmacy.” Chloe calls from the kitchen. “We already _have_ Tylenol for you, and you’ll need to take some before bed.”

“Well, enjoy the good meds while you can, child. I do hope you won’t be in too much discomfort later. I recall from my recent experience that healing is not pleasant.”

Trixie adjusts her position on the cushions with a small wince and Lucifer leans closer, a worried look on his face. “Beatrice?”

She looks up at him and rolls her eyes, and he stifles a smile again at her resemblance to her mother when she does that. “I see what you mean, now.”

“About what?”

“About people fussing when you’re sick! It’s _really_ annoying!”

He barks a laugh at the unexpected commiseration. “Ah yes. I’m afraid you’ll have to get used to it until you’re well again, Spawn. Perhaps it’s supposed to serve as a reminder _not_ to get injured.”

“And we still need to have our conversation about you running off without permission, young lady.” Chloe’s voice floats into the room, and Trixie’s eyes widen.

“Ummm… aren’t you supposed to have a talk with Mom tonight, Lucifer?” Trixie’s eyes plead for saving, and he chuckles. “Like, a really important one?”

“Indeed, child, but I think your mother was saving that for after you were in bed and asleep.”

“Oh. Well, I am _reeeeaaalllyyyyyy_ tired,” she follows with an enormous (and poorly faked) yawn, and Lucifer laughs again, patting her shoulder.

“Your mother tells me you’re very skilled at faking sleep. It appears you’re not quite so practiced at faking actual fatigue. You’ll need to practice, Urchin, if you want to be convincing.”

“Please don’t give her any pointers, Lucifer,” Chloe pleads from the kitchen. “She’s already too clever by half.”

“Well what can you expect with you as her mother, Detective?” Lucifer teases, “It’s a good thing she’s got Daniel as a father to temper that cleverness, or else she might have taken over the world by now.”

Trixie opts to eat her dinner on her lap desk on the couch, and Chloe makes sure she takes her medications before sitting down to eat her own dinner at the breakfast bar across from Lucifer. They chat lightly through dinner, Chloe filling him in on the details of Pony Boy’s confessions and the extra information he’d given on Tiernan that had led to the warrant for his arrest.

“Thank you, Lucifer.” She reaches across the bar and rests her hand on his, waiting for him to look up from his plate to meet her eyes.

“For what?” His brow crinkles in puzzlement. “I haven’t done anything?”

“You stayed with Trixie, and made sure she got medical attention.” She squeezes his hand as his brow furrows further. “I know you. I’m _sure_ you thought about going after Tiernan right then and there, but you didn’t. You took Trixie for help so quickly you didn’t even bother to get your jacket or your cell phone. You made sure she was safe, and you called the police to handle it… even though I know you consider punishment _yours_.”

“Yes, well,” he clears his throat. “One of the many benefits of immortality is that I know where I’ll be able to find him later, should the whim strike me.”

She lifts an eyebrow at him, but he merely stares back. She doesn’t back down from the intensity of his dark eyes, at last having accepted him for who—and what—he is. He’s a punisher at heart, and there’s no shame in that. There are plenty of people truly deserving of punishment in the world. He helps her find them, and bring them to justice. There’s a darkness inside him, but she’s recently learned just how much darkness lurks within her own heart… so she can’t hold that against him, not when his light struggles valiantly to shine brightly, a brilliant beacon in a world of grey. He is the devil, but he’s the furthest thing from evil she can imagine. He’s her partner, her best friend, her… _more_. He loves cool ranch puffs and pudding, whiskey and dancing, music and no small amount of mayhem. He was forced to kill his brother to protect her, and banished his mother to save the world. He can make an innuendo out of anything, and gets flustered and confused when he's shown the slightest bit of real affection. He plays Monopoly with them and whines when he has to choose from the substandard tokens. He’s physically invulnerable and emotionally fragile. And she wants to know more, all he’s willing to share.

“I would say a photograph would last longer, Detective, but that would be a lie,” the intensity has faded from his eyes, replaced with a warm humor as she realizes she’s been staring, lost in his eyes for—how long? “Are you all right?”

“I’m good,” she replies, smiling as she realizes how much of an understatement that is. She glances over at the couch, noting that Trixie has actually fallen asleep over her meal. Apparently the events of the day caught up with her after all. “No. I’m… great.”

“Great. Really?” She’s graced with a disbelieving eyebrow lift. “Your offspring was injured in an altercation she was placed in because of her proximity to me, your ex-husband unwittingly orchestrated it, and you’re currently having dinner with the devil.”

“Yep.” She doesn’t look away. “That’s not how I see it though. My _partner_ protected my daughter, who is safely asleep in my line of sight at this exact moment. My idiot ex-husband has finally reached a point where he’s going to seek the help he needs to deal with a devastating loss. And I’m having dinner with the man that I love, and then _we_ are finally having a very important conversation.”

She pulls out her phone, and turns the damn thing off. He chuffs a laugh, pulls his out and does the same.


	33. What About Candy?

Lucifer glances over his shoulder at the sleeping child on the couch. “Should we move her to her bed? Or poke her to make sure she’s _actually_ asleep?

“If we do, she’ll wake up.” Chloe laughs softly. “She’s not out _that_ deeply yet, but she _is_ snoring a little, and she doesn’t do that when she’s faking, so I think we’re safe.”

“Ah, she truly _is_ your daughter, then.” He grins unapologetically as Chloe glares at him in fake offense before acknowledging the hit. “All right, we’ll just chat here, then… Where do you want to start, Detective?”

“How about… Candy?”

“Okay,” he winces inwardly. “Do you want the story behind it, or would you prefer to simply ask questions?”

“Let’s start with the story, and I’ll ask as questions occur to me?” He nods, takes a deep breath, and begins the story.

“When you kissed me on that beach that first time, just after I’d gotten done pointing out to you exactly _why_ you are far too good for me… I was utterly baffled, Detective.” He picks up his glass of wine and swirls it slowly, watching the soft light rippling on the surface of the liquid inside. “The next day you were acting so strangely, not at all like yourself and I felt as though I couldn’t get my footing to even try to figure out what was happening. After you chased down that poisoner and I’d gotten the boys out of their predicament, when we had our… moment… outside the laboratory—that was when I first had hope that you might… that _we_ might be real.” Chloe nods, but doesn’t interrupt. She remembers the dawning expression of hopeful happiness on his face as they stood together in the golden late-afternoon sunlight. _“This is real, isn’t it?”_

“Later that evening I got a call from Maze to meet her at a dive bar downtown, so I went and found her there with Mum. Mum had something she wanted to tell me, but Maze had changed her mind and tried to drag me out of there. While they were arguing, I found an old photo on the wall of dear Penelope sitting at a table in that very bar with my brother Amenadiel.” His shoulders pull in, and she has the feeling that if his wings were visible, they would be folded around him, shielding him from the memory. “Mum told me that you had been placed in my path by Father, and… suddenly it all made sense. _Why_ you would think you felt something for me that clearly shouldn’t be possible. Why I’d been drawn to you from the beginning—do you remember our first case? I _asked_ you if my father had sent you.” She makes a small negative noise, she remembers his confusion at her non-response to his so-called “charms” at the time, but not the specific conversation. "I _knew_ in that moment that everything we’d felt was a _lie_ , that my father was manipulating us and had taken away your free will to do so—and I was bloody _furious_.”

“But Lucifer, he _didn’t_ \- he told me, when I had my talk with him that the _only_ thing he manipulated was putting me here, when he knew you’d be here. Everything else… _everything_ else is just… it’s just us.”

“And how bloody kind it was of him to wait over a year after I found out before saying anything about it… I’ve only been screaming at him about it since I found out about it.” Lucifer doesn’t look at her, but continues his narrative. “Regardless… I went to your apartment to find out if you were aware of your miracle status, if you _knew_ how we were being played… and I found you with that nose bleed that refused to stop.” She recalls him bursting into her bedroom, her panicked attempts to staunch the flow of blood, and him shouting _“Did you know??”_ His wrathful expression melting into blankness, then morphing to horror at her whispered, _“Lucifer… it won’t stop.”_

“After it became clear that we weren’t going to be able to obtain the cure by human means, I came up with the plan to go to Hell to retrieve it, which required me to die since I didn’t have my wings at the time. I enlisted Maze, Amenadiel, and Linda to help. I was even desperate enough to ask Mum, but she refused.” He flicks his eyes up to gauge her reaction so far, and she nods encouragingly. “The plan was to station us in a hospital room just below yours to ensure my vulnerability with Amenadiel to make sure you weren’t moved until I had returned. Maze would kill me, and Dr. Linda would revive me after I’d gotten the antidote from that tosser.”

“Lucifer…” Chloe is grateful, but appalled. “There are _so many things wrong with that plan._ ”

“Well, as we had neither the time nor the means to come up with a better plan, and you’re sitting here _alive_ to argue with me about it, I’m going to ignore that comment.” He smirks briefly at her before returning his attention to the glass in his hand, taking a drink and grimacing. “Honestly, Detective, how _do_ you drink this? I can provide you with better vintages than this…”

“It’s cheap, and it gets the job done. It’s fine,” she smirks back at him, gesturing with her hand to continue his story.

“Well, as you know, Mazikeen lost her nerve when it came to _actually_ killing me, so I had no choice but to do it myself while she and Linda were arguing about it. I found the Professor’s cell easily enough—Hell is an open book to me, I always know where I need to go—and I got the antidote from him. Then I nearly got stuck in my own damned loop, and Mum had to come pull me out.”

“What do you mean _your_ loop? How can you have a loop, you’re the King?” she’s reaching across the countertop before she realizes she’s moving, closing her hand over his, as though to reassure herself that he’s here.

“At the time, I didn’t have my wings and I was carrying a _lot_ of guilt for… for Uriel.” He empties the glass and doesn’t even flinch. Chloe refills it for him without asking and he takes another large drink before he goes on. “Anyway. Maze figured out why they were having trouble reviving me, and Mum showed up and volunteered to go down and pull me out. We made it back and got you healed up.”

“And then you left.” Chloe wants to ask him what was in his loop, but that seems like a question that’s a little too intimate right now. If his guilt was for Uriel, she has a sinking suspicion she has an idea what it might feature. “I woke up and you were beside me, and then you _left_.”

“I did,” he agrees flatly. “I should have left before you awakened, but… I couldn’t. I _had_ to make sure you woke up, that you were okay. I wanted to talk with you again. Bloody Hell, I _wanted_ to stay, but I couldn’t while I thought we weren’t… real. It hurt too damn much.” His eyes are full of that old anguish when they meet hers, and he looks away again quickly. She thinks back to that time, to walking into his echoingly empty penthouse with the sheets over the furniture and for a moment she’s overcome with anger. They might have avoided _all of this_ if he’d only…

“You should have stayed.” Her voice is quietly livid. “You should have _stayed_ , and _talked to me_.”

“Yes, well. If we were being manipulated by my father, that’s _exactly_ what he would have wanted me to do, isn’t it?” He grits the words out between his clenched teeth, and she realizes yet again that his worries about manipulation aren’t the ravings of a slightly delusional narcissist, that they had actually been a valid possibility… and her anger fades. “I needed to _save you from me._ So, I left you to recover, and I went to Vegas. I was there for nearly a week, drinking and gambling my way through the strip before I set foot in Fletcher’s and met Candy. She stole my stash of cash and my ring and I had to track her down to get the ring back.”

“She robbed you, and you _married her?”_ Chloe blurts, appalled.

“Oh, yes!” he crows cheerfully. “She told me her story when I appeared at her apartment, and we wound up talking all evening. How her father had passed away and her club was in trouble due to his debts to a loan shark, and then I told her about my problems with you… and the idea occurred to me that we’d be able to help each other. I agreed to pay off her debt, if she would come back to LA with me temporarily to help me ferret out what Mum was up to, and… put a wedge between the two of us.”

“A wedge,” she parrots, incensed.

“Amenadiel called her a shield, when I explained it. I’d asked him to watch over you when I left… I… hadn’t intended to come back at all, but I wasn’t strong enough to stay away. I knew it was only a matter of time before I was back here, hoping to keep working with you… even if we couldn’t be anything more.” His voice rings with heartache, and she barely resists the urge to hug him. Instead she waits for him to continue. “Candy was the perfect solution, and she was clever enough to help me weasel information from Mum without her cottoning on.”

“Candy. Clever?” she chokes out, remembering the dingy blonde with pink-tipped hair and enormous… feet.

“Oh goodness me, yes! That bimbo routine was all part of her show for Mum. Smart as a whip, that one, and twice as sharp! I had to work very hard to convince her to go through with my plan…” Chloe’s face flushes as she tries not to picture exactly _how_ Lucifer would have convinced her, and he continues. “In fact, when I proposed, she spit champagne all over me. Fortunately, I was completely covered in her snuggie, so she didn’t ruin my suit—”

“ _You_ were wearing a snuggie when you proposed?” She feels like she’s just stepped into an alternate universe.

“Mm,” he confirms distractedly. “It was pink. Not really my color, but Candy assured me that lounging with alcohol and ice cream was absolutely mandatory when dwelling on one’s problems. I must admit, she was rather spot-on with it. And I did manage to talk her around… that and the offer to pay off her debt for the help.”

“So… did you even marry her?” she shakes her head, trying to piece this puzzle together.

“Of course we were married! I don’t lie, Detective, we were married for two weeks before Candy got more information about Mum’s machinations, then she filed for the annulment once she got back to Vegas. Goodness, did you know it takes a _year_ to annul a marriage? LVPD called me when she went missing, thinking I was still her husband, and I had to explain— and then I was worried that I _hadn’t_ completed my part of the deal fully, so we had to go and see if we could find out what was going on.”

 _“That’s_ why you were in Vegas on my birthday?” Chloe yelps, her eyes darting to her sleeping daughter when it came out louder than she intended. “To go look for Candy? Wait- we? Oh! Did _Ella_ go with you??”

“Ever the Detective, aren’t you?” he smiles up into her eyes with pride shining in his at her quick uptake. “Yes, you’ve got it right in one. LVPD called me during your little cake dancer show, and Miss Lopez came across me just as I’d hung up the phone and astutely could tell that I was upset. She offered to come with me, and she was quite the asset. I’d no idea she had such a high kick, or that she was such a good shot, or had such skills at counting cards!”

Chloe boggles at him for a moment, mind short-circuiting, so she merely nods, encouraging him to continue.

“Well, when we got to Vegas we found LVPD at Candy’s apartment, which was a murder scene—”

“Candy was murdered!?”

“No, no, it was a friend of hers that looked a lot like her- at least from behind, if you weren’t paying attention to her feet…” Chloe decides not to ask about that observation. “I figured out it wasn’t her right away, of course, but we didn’t want to let LVPD know because then the murderer might go after Candy again! So we made a few stops and finally found her. It appeared the murderer had been after a pocket deed for her club, so I played my part as the widower and went to claim the club to flush out our bad guy. Miss Lopez went undercover as a showgirl to be my lookout while I was singing on stage. With a bit of practice, she could really—”

“Lucifer.”

“Yes, right. Anyway, we found the murderer, turned him over to the police after Miss Lopez shot him in the leg, and made it back here in time for me to give you your gift.”

“Were you… did you ever think you might want to stay married to her?” Now it’s her turn to keep her eyes on the counter.

“Stay married to _Candy?”_ he laughs, and it’s such an innocent sound she looks up in surprise. His eyes are lit with mirth as though she’s truly said something funny. “Detective, Candy is a wonderful friend, but she was never more than that. We never even slept in the same bed.”

“You- what? You _didn’t?”_ She’d wasted all that energy fighting jealousy… over someone he hadn’t even been _interested_ in?

“Of course not!” he sounds insulted at the very idea. “First of all, that wasn’t part of the _deal_. Secondly, my head was far too full of _you_ to fully enjoy an encounter with anyone else at the time. And third, it would have just felt wrong… Candy felt much like a little sister, someone to watch out for and protect – a bit like Miss Lopez. They certainly got on like a house on fire when they met.”

“Wow,” Chloe murmurs. “Linda was right, it’s definitely nothing like what I thought it was.” She doesn’t _like_ it. But… it’s not as bad as she’d feared. And she _can_ see his side of it, now that she’s aware and accepting of the information she didn’t have at the time. But she still doesn’t _like_ it.

“Well, so now you have the story of Candy.” He offers diffidently, looking up at her uncertainly from under half-lidded eyes.

“I don’t like it.” Her gaze meets his candidly, and his eyes flicker back down to his glass. “I don’t _like_ that you made these choices about _us_ unilaterally, without trying to talk to me about what we were facing, or telling me the truth. We _could_ have tried to work it out together if you’d only _talked to me_ , Lucifer. Why didn’t you?” Her voice breaks on the last words, frustration warring with the grilllp} ef for what they might have had, what they might have been able to avoid.

“I couldn’t,” he whispers. “I told you every day and you never believed me—except I think maybe when you shot me, but then I bled and you went right back to not believing. I felt so strongly about you Detective, and it was all entirely new to me. I was terrified that you would leave, or that you would tell me to leave. And I would have. I still would…”

“I _know_ you would—” she interrupts wryly, “And I swear that if you pull that little move again, I will personally host a party for Trixie’s entire school _in your penthouse._ ”

He looks at her with horror tinged with respect for making such a good threat, which slowly morphs into a smirk. “I’m fairly certain the penthouse would _not_ qualify as a child-friendly venue, Detective.”

She glares at him, rolling her eyes as she struggles to ignore the flare of heat that runs up her spine at his sultry tone of voice. “The promise stands.”

“Very well. I’d prefer not to ever return to the infernal plane if I can at all avoid it… and it seems that now I can, since Father told you it doesn’t need me.” He gives her a small smile. “Since neither Heaven _nor_ Hell wants me, it appears that the Earthly plane is stuck with me—I’m running out of places to get kicked out of. Oh! Speaking of that... My little conversation with Beatrice, while you and Daniel were speaking with the doctor about her discharge instructions… I was explaining to her that Daniel has been upset because of losing Charlotte, and that mistakes can be made when we’re upset. Anyway—that led us to a conversation about how Dear Charlotte is in Heaven, and she asked if _she_ would go to Heaven. I assured her that she would – and she will if she keeps on as she’s begun. With you as a parent I have complete faith that she will. She asked if I would visit her there, and… she was quite upset when I told her that wasn’t possible.”

“Isn’t it?” Chloe muses thoughtfully.

“I’ve been banned, Detective, part of my Fall, I’m afraid.” He clarifies firmly.

“Well, but… your dad told me that your banishment was never meant to be permanent.” Chloe points out, and he freezes with his mouth open to reply.

“But… surely he merely meant my banishment _to_ Hell, not my banishment _from_ Heaven.” Lucifer hypothesizes tentatively. As though merely entertaining the thought that he might be able to return Heaven is excruciating.

“I don’t think that’s something you can assume, Lucifer. Maybe you should try to go sometime?”

“That… doesn’t seem like a good idea, Detective.” He shakes his head decisively, an apprehensive expression on his face. “If I try to go back and my banishment _isn’t_ lifted, my siblings would take it as an act of war. They’d be convinced I would be out to destroy Father and Heaven and… well, everything.”

“Your family really doesn’t know you at all, do they?” She’d seen it with Raphael, though Arael had seemed more open-minded.

“Not in the least,” he scoffs. “Minions, nearly all of them.”

"Well, that may be a project for the future though, maybe Amenadiel can find out. Wouldn't it be nice to see Charlotte again? Father Frank?" Her stomach lurches at the wistful look in his eyes. It reminds her of his expression at Charlotte's crime scene. _"I'll never get to see her again,"_ he'd mourned. _"Well, at least you'll get to see her, Detective. Eventually. In Heaven. But I, well, she's gone somewhere I simply can't follow."_ She makes a mental note to ask Amenadiel how they can go about finding out if his heavenly ban has been lifted, after all. "It's something to think about, but we can do that later. For now, do you think we're ready to discuss us?"

"No time like the present, Detective." He grins weakly at her, trying for a show of bravado that falls just a little short of convincing. "What is it you desire for us?"

"Mommy?" A groggy voice materializes from the living room behind him. "My leg hurts."

"Okay baby," she exchanges a wry grin with Lucifer and goes to retrieve the Tylenol from the cabinet. "I told you you'd need a dose before bed, sounds like it's that time." 

Lucifer stands and approaches the couch cautiously. "Would you like some assistance getting to bed, Urchin?"

"Will you carry me?" She lifts her arms toward him and gives him her best puppy eyes. He sighs, but bends and scoops her up around shoulders and knees, being careful not to jostle the laceration on her thigh. Chloe rounds the corner of the stairwell and stops dead at finding Lucifer carrying her daughter. 

"Lucifer?" 

"If her leg is hurting, then walking on it seems a bad idea, does it not?" He asks, confused at her startled reaction. "You said it was time for your offspring to go to bed, so I thought--"

"Of course," Chloe agrees quickly. "Let me pull down the sheets for you..." She hurries into Trixie's bedroom, straightening the sheets and pulling the blankets aside as Lucifer deposits her gently in the center of her comfortable nest of pillows and stuffed animals. Chloe hands her the cup of liquid medicine and Trixie takes it with a grimace. She quirks a smile at her daughter and hands her a small cup of water to wash the taste from her mouth, taking it back once it's emptied. 

"Are you guys still talking about stuff?" she asks sleepily. 

"Yeah, Monkey, we've been talking." She sits on the edge of the bed. "You want a story?" 

"Nah, I'm tired," she shifts under her blankets, finding a comfortable position for her leg. "You guys go finish your talk. G'night Mommy. G'night Lucifer."

" 'Night Monkey," Chloe leans down to press a kiss to her forehead and heads for the door. 

"Sleep well, Spawn" Lucifer murmurs as Chloe slides the door shut behind them. He moves back to the bar but she catches his hand and leads him instead to the couch, flopping down dramatically and looking up at him. She gestures to the seat next to her in a clear invitation and he gingerly sits next to her, smiling tentatively. "I believe this is where someone typically says, 'Now, where were we?'"

"Oh, I remember exactly where we were." She assures him. "You want to know what I want from us." 


	34. I'll Take Care of It

“It seems a reasonable place to start,” Lucifer agrees with a smile. “How am I to exceed expectations if I’ve no idea what they are?”

“Lucifer, we’ve been dancing around this line for what feels like forever.” She begins, her agile mind flying to put the right words forward. “So, I think this conversation is long overdue. I’m tired of second-guessing, and backpedaling, and self-sabotaging so… here it is. I want you. I want _us_ , a relationship. I… I want us to be able to tell each other things and not have to worry about the other walking—running—away. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere this time. I know I’m going to need to prove myself to you after what I’ve done, and I totally understand that it’s going to take time to rebuild the kind of trust that we had before, but… I love you, and I think we can weather _anything_ as long as we stand against it together.” She looks up at him hopefully, but she can’t read his expression.

“De— _Chloe_ ,” he breathes her name as though he savors the taste of it on his tongue, as though speaking it provides a vast relief that he no longer has to keep it contained. “I want those things as well—I find that I want completely ridiculous things I _never_ thought would appeal to me—game nights with you and your offspring, quiet nights just spent together. Mind you, I _also_ want nights out on the town, whisking you away to private destinations where we can… _explore_ one another without the need for worrying about interruptions. I’ve been working for this—for _you_ —for years now, darling. I’d very much like not to muck it up any more than I already have. Perhaps, if you’re willing, we can set some appointments with Dr. Linda to help us figure out what we need to do, for repairing the trust on _both_ sides. I know you felt that I’d been untruthful with you about what I am. I never lied, but I also didn’t make the extra effort to make you believe me. Well… I _did_ try, but that was when I found out I’d lost my Devil face. Anyway, she has a unique insight, and she also has quite a lot of practice in explaining things that I don’t understand to me.” His tongue flickers out to wet his lips and he continues. “I can’t promise perfection, my love—except for sex, of course—the good Doctor tells me I’ve got a lot of walls that need to come down still, but… I can _feel_ them now when I couldn’t before, and they feel… thinner? I suppose that’s a decent description. I’ve been tearing at them since I arrived on Earth, I think, and then you came along and started chipping away at the outer layers. This is all new, and strange, and… I don’t know if I can be _enough_ —”

“Hey,” she interrupts him softly, meeting his eyes and scooting closer to close the gap between them on the couch. _“You are enough._ The fact that you’re willing to give us a chance? It’s nothing short of amazing. That takes a lot of courage, Lucifer— _especially_ with the long history you’ve got of not being able to trust anyone. That you’re willing to try with _me_ … I’m going to do my absolute best to be worthy of you.”

“And so shall I,” his eyes hold hers, shining black in the dim light and she doesn’t try to fight the urge to kiss him. He leans in and they meet softly, the barest lingering brush of lips as they exist in each other’s space. He pulls back almost imperceptibly and she moves forward, chasing after him but not finding him yet. She watches as his eyes blink half-open slowly, as though reluctantly waking from a pleasant dream. They regard each other for a moment before closing their little distance again, lips joining eagerly this time as his right hand moves to thread his fingers into the back of her hair, steadying them both. Her hands move without conscious thought, one gently caressing his shirt directly over his steadily pounding heart and the other smoothing the carefully-sculpted stubble of his jawline.

He can taste the poor excuse for merlot on her lips, and decides that it’s much more enjoyable this way than from the glass—in fact he feels as though he could become drunk on this barest trace alone. Neither moves to deepen the kiss, instead pulling back and gently meeting again, then again before they simply rest their foreheads together, his hand still gently cupping the back of her neck. She sighs, and moves her head to rest on his shoulder. He tilts his head a little so his scruff gently catches against her hair.

“We have an idea of what we want to work for then…” she ventures. “I… think we should also talk about what we don’t want.”

“Ah, rules,” she feels his cheek twitch in a smile. “Very well then, Detective, lead the way.”

“Trixie,” she says simply. “I know that she knows you aren’t human, but… I don’t want her exposed to drugs, or excessive alcohol.”

“Of course,” he nods. “I would never put your Offspring in harm’s way intentionally. I’ve found I’ve not wanted the slight escape drugs have provided as much lately anyway, but I can promise they will stay at the penthouse, and well-protected. I’ll not bring them to your home.”

“Thank you. Your turn now?”

“Lying. I can’t abide being lied to, Detective.” His voice is soft, and catches in his throat. “Omission and misdirection I can deal with, so long as you _do_ eventually tell the truth… but I would like to make it clear that if either of the latter two are necessary, if you simply _tell_ me that you have valid reasons for withholding the truth at the time, I will nearly always be content to await it and will be _far less likely_ to attempt to obtain the whole truth by my own methods.”

“That’s fair—You don’t lie, so I know I don’t need to ask that of you, but the same request holds for the simply _telling me_ when you can’t tell me the whole truth right away.”

“Now that you _know_ , and believe me about who I am, I’ll be able to be much more open with you,” he assures her earnestly. “Just, please be aware sometimes I do need time to work though things myself before I can talk about them. It’s not that I won’t tell you, just perhaps that I don’t have words for what I want to say, yet. I often need Linda’s help with that, with… figuring out what it is I’m feeling.”

She nods against his shoulder, recalling how difficult it was to find the right way to express herself in Linda’s office during her single session. Lucifer has quite the head start on her with his therapy, but he also has eons more baggage to unpack, so she’s quite happy to play catch-up for as long as necessary. “Speaking of figuring out how I’m feeling… I’ve had a realization recently—I… I want a committed relationship, I don’t want to share you with anyone. I’ve never been a jealous person, but… it’s true. I was _horribly_ jealous of Eve when I walked in on that scene in the penthouse, and I’m absolutely appalled at how I reacted. I just… you’re so… I mean, you could have nearly literally _anyone_ , and I don’t want you to feel trapped with me. But the thought of you with someone else—it hurts.”

“I’ll tell you this,” his arm tightens around her shoulders, his broad palm rubbing her upper arm soothingly. “I haven’t been able to gather any real interest in anyone else since just before you accepted Pierce’s proposal. I would think that you’d broken me, Detective, if my desire wasn’t still in full working order in your presence. I haven’t been with anyone for a very, _very_ long time now.”

“Lucifer, you said you were in Hell for _centuries_.”

“Oh yes, I’m well aware. My wanking hand has had quite a lot more practice than it’s used to, I can assure you—” she interrupts him with a snort of incredulous laughter. “I’m glad my predicament can bring you some amusement, Detective.” He comments wryly.

“No, I’m sorry, you’re right,” she flushes and pulls herself back under control, her hand tracing over his collarbone. “An exclusive relationship will be yet another new thing for you, though, so this communication thing is going to be really, really important, okay?” She stifles a yawn, but he notices anyway. “What else have we got to discuss?”

“I really only have one more request…” he offers tentatively. “If there is something you’d like me to address—to change—please just _say so_. I… I don’t mind changing some things about myself, but now that I truly do like who I’m becoming—or trying to become—I do trust you, but I don’t want to have to worry that _you_ are manipulating me into something. I’m still _me_.”

“And I _love you._ I don’t want you to be something you’re not.” she agrees easily. “If you think I’m doing that, please tell me right away? I’ll always tell you if I think something is off, or just not right, but I don’t like the thought of trying to trick you into anything.”

“Thank you, love.” She fights down another yawn and he chuckles, the rumble of laughter echoing in his chest under her ear. “You should go to sleep. You’ve worked all weekend and now you’ve got to go back for another long week tomorrow.”

“At least tomorrow _should_ just be paperwork, since we’ve got our perps in custody now.” Her eyes move to Trixie’s closed door, then back to his face. “Will you stay?”

“Well…” he drawls, before giving her a boyish smile, “I _did_ think it might be prudent to come equipped with a change of clothing and something to sleep in this time. Just in case.”

“Just in case, hm?” She grins up at him and reluctantly releases him to go get his changes of clothes, mentally plotting to ‘borrow’ the shirt he’s wearing to replace her ‘emergency insomnia’ shirt.

**************************

They drive to the precinct separately the next morning, and Chloe turns in the HR form for workplace relationships bearing both their signatures, garnering a smirk from Hernandez at the desk.

“Leaving it a bit late, aren’t you Decker? You guys tried to deny it for years, but the rest of us knew what was going on. Why file the form now?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Hernandez. We haven’t even been on a date yet!” Chloe retorts impatiently. “Can you please just see that it gets filed?”

“Of course I’ll file it, that’s my job,” she smiles, and Chloe is uncomfortably reminded of a shark. “I don’t know who you’re trying to fool though, everyone knows you’ve been an item for ages.”

Chloe’s eyes are at the height of their roll when she hears his smooth voice from just outside the office door. “I’m afraid not, Elena, but not for lack of trying on my part. I feel like I’ve finally hit the lottery now that I’ve convinced her to give me a chance.”

Hernandez widens her eyes, then focuses on Chloe. “You _seriously_ turned that down?”

“Oh, _so many times_ ,” Lucifer confirms ruefully. “So I can only hope that my luck holds, hm? I appreciate you taking care of that form… you _know_ how much I loathe paperwork.”

Hernandez laughs outright. “I know how often you’ve hidden in here chatting with me while the Detective there was at her desk, so yeah, I guess I’ve got a pretty good idea of how much you hate it. You can count on me, Lucifer.”

“ _Thank_ you, darling. Detective? The Lieutenant was asking for you, when you had a moment.” Chloe nods and thanks him, heading for the Lieutenant’s office and Hernandez continues the conversation with Lucifer.

“Really? You’re still calling her Detective?”

“Of course, it suits her quite well, does it not?” The pride in his voice makes her heart swell as he continues. “You’ll be a dear and keep mum about this, won’t you? The Detective is a private person, and I’d hate for her reputation to suffer by a closer association with me…” Hernandez rushes to assure him that she’s the very picture of discretion, and Chloe makes a mental note to make sure Lucifer knows she’s not ashamed to be linked with him as she reaches the office door and raps on the glass.

“Decker,” he greets her shortly. “I see we had yet another incident last night involving your consultant.”

“That _really_ wasn’t his fault—” Chloe begins to explain, but he cuts her off brusquely.

“No, it wasn’t. We got enough information from Grabowski and Tiernan, though, to know enough about what did happen. I really wanted to give Espinoza the benefit of the doubt, despite his record with Palmetto and Malcolm, but unfortunately that’s not possible anymore.” He glances at her, gauging her expression. “I asked Espinoza for his resignation this morning. He handed in his badge and gun without argument. I wanted to give you a heads-up before the rumor mill got to you.”

Chloe gazes at him, wide-eyed in shock and he continues. “He’ll be given a severance package. I know he’s not gotten over the loss of his girlfriend at Pierce’s hand, and I know that for some reason he blamed your consultant for her death. But I can’t trust him as an officer of the law. Do I need to be worried about Morningstar seeking any retribution?”

“If Lucifer was going to seek retribution on Dan, he would have stolen his pudding cups and probably replaced his office chair wheels with squeaky ones,” Chloe replies honestly. “He knows what Dan was going through, and he would never offer to seriously hurt him.”

The Lieutenant nods, accepting her evaluation. He lifts the file folder for the case they just closed. “I’ll be keeping a close eye on the two of you. Nice work on this case. Now get back to work.”

“Yes, sir.” She exits the office as though it’s on fire, glancing over at Dan’s now-empty desk under the stairs. He must have cleared out first thing; the better to avoid the walk of shame. She considers calling him, but thinks he may need some time to digest what’s happened, so she sends him a text to let her know if he needs anything instead. Lucifer finds her at her desk a few minutes later, staring blankly at her computer monitor.

“Detective, are you quite all right?” He sets a mug of precinct coffee in front of her and settles lightly into his chair. “You look as though you’ve received an awful shock.”

“Dan got fired this morning.” She keeps her voice low, but he obviously has no trouble hearing her. “Because of what happened yesterday.”

“I don’t— _oh_.” His eyes widen in understanding. “Yes, I suppose that does look rather bad, even _with_ context. _Are_ you all right? How will your offspring handle this news?”

“I’m… okay.” She answers honestly, but distantly. “Dan’s been on shaky ground since Palmetto, and this was just too far over the line. The Lieutenant says he’s going to be keeping a close eye on us, though. And he asked me if he needed to be worrying about _you_ getting revenge on Dan.”

“I’ve already raided the break room fridge,” Lucifer smirks, satisfied. “I was going to booby-trap his desk drawers, but I suppose it’s too late for that now. Oh! You’ve got his phone number, don’t you? I’ve just come up with a _wonderful—”_

“Probably not the best time, Lucifer,” she suggests firmly, and he deflates visibly. “Maybe hold onto it for later, though? Once Dan’s a little less stressed?”

“Very well, Detective,” he sighs in resignation, redirecting his attention. “Have we a new case this morning?”

“Not yet, looks like I’m just finishing up the background checks on a couple of these other investigations I was helping with before we got that last one. Looks like we’ve got a slow day ahead of us.”

*****************************

It doesn’t take Dan long to clean out his desk, he’s keen to avoid being seen doing so, and he never finished unpacking from his recent move anyway. As he’s tucking away the last few items a young uniformed approaches him diffidently.

“Detective Espinoza?” Dan doesn’t bother to correct him on the title. “I’m sorry to bother you sir, but that crazy priest that we arrested in connection with Mr. Morningstar’s poisoning keeps asking to see Detective Decker. Do you know when she’ll be in? He keeps saying it’s incredibly important, and that it’s about Mr. Morningstar.”

“I’m not sure when she’ll be in, she just wrapped up a case last night.” He sighs. Chloe’s going to be even busier now that the department is down _another_ detective. She doesn’t have time for this lunatic… but he has nothing but time, now. “I’ll take care of it. Thanks.”


	35. Not Cool, Lucifer

Dan enters the visiting area at the jail and approaches the table where the priest, Kinley, sits quietly. He approaches the table and sits across from him, garnering him a look of mild surprise.

“You are not Detective Decker,” he comments unnecessarily. “I am Father Kinley, and you are?”

 _“I_ heard you’re not a Father anymore. That you got excommunicated for your little stunt here in LA,” Dan prods. “I’m Dan Espinoza, Chloe is my ex-wife. She’s too busy to deal with you right now, so I told her I’d come instead.”

“Do you know the truth of the creature calling himself Lucifer Morningstar, then?”

“I know he’s a majorly entitled dick, but he did just protect my daughter, _and_ take an axe to the chest protecting my ex-wife _after_ your attempt on his life.” Dan admits grumpily. “What’s so important that you keep asking to see Chloe?”

“I’m going back to Rome soon, to stand trials for my actions there,” the ex-priest meets Dan’s eyes steadily, not a trace of shame or remorse to be seen. “But Detective Decker _needs_ to hear the prophecy. The angel told me it is false, but I don’t believe it to be so. Lucifer Morningstar needs to be sent back to Hell, or none of us are safe.”

“Sorry buddy, but no way is Chloe coming to talk to you. She’s got zero interest in the crazy you’re selling.” Dan stands and makes to leave, but the older man reaches out a hand in a beseeching motion. Dan tenses, but Kinley makes no effort to touch or grab him.

“Please,” his plea is soft, but fervent. “I have proof that Lucifer Morningstar _is_ the Great Beast, The Prince of Lies, King of Hell. Please, go to the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels and speak to Oscar Rivas. He holds the proof for me. Look it over, and you will _see_. Detective Decker saw it… but I’m afraid his hooks are too deep. I fear for her, for all of us, if she cannot break free.”

Dan shakes his head. “Yeah, I’ve got better things to do than a wild goose chase set by somebody that’s giving their best shot at an insanity plea.” _Like job hunting_.

“Lucifer Morningstar is _not_ what he seems to be. He _is_ the embodiment of evil, and anyone close to him _will_ suffer.” The priest still speaks calmly, and his voice has a ring of truth to it. Dan turns away, dismissing him.

“Have a nice flight back to Rome. Enjoy the scenery while you can.”

Once he’s back in his car, though, he keeps running through Kinley’s words in his head. The church is on his way back to his apartment, it can’t hurt to stop and talk to this Rivas fellow, look at his proof. He still can’t shake the feeling that Lucifer’s not someone _safe_ for his family to be around, and if he can get his hands on proof, at least he won’t feel like a total failure.

 _Kinley said Chloe had already seen this proof, though,_ a tiny voice pipes up inside, and it sounds like Chloe. _If she’s disregarding it, it can’t be worth much, if anything. She wouldn’t put Trixie at risk, and she’s positive that she’s safe with Lucifer._

But, he argues with that voice, If the priest is right, and Lucifer _does_ have something over her… He turns toward the church. _Better safe than sorry._

Oscar Rivas is very keen to share the information entrusted to him by his mentor with someone willing to listen. Dan spends a couple hours with the man, who doesn’t come across as calmly as Kinley did. This one seems more like a zealot, wild intense eyes and an eager, demanding demeanor. Dan asks to borrow the materials to go over at home, and Rivas enthusiastically allows it.

He puts the box aside once he gets home, and checks his phone, finding a missed text from Chloe offering help if he needs it. He grimaces and sets the phone aside, booting up his laptop. He updates his resume, and spends some time browsing for jobs. He submits applications for a couple of private security firms, though he doesn’t have high hopes for them without a glowing review from his previous employer—something he certainly won’t be receiving. He finds a couple of positions for insurance investigator, that might be something he could handle, so he applies for those as well. Might as well put his Detective training to some use. He makes a mental note to ask Maze about the requirements for becoming licensed as a bounty hunter. By the time he’s done putting out the feelers for new jobs, it’s nearly midday so he breaks for lunch, then immerses himself in the box from Rivas. He pulls out some useless old leather-bound books that he ignores, and one that looks like a photo album. He pulls it out and opens it curiously. It’s full of news clippings and old photographs and he moves to close it in exasperation when a familiar face catches his eye—he looks closer and finds Lucifer in a black and white photo dated 1944, rubbing elbows with a crowd of people wearing swastikas. He looks for the evidence of photoshopping, but can’t find any indications that it has been. _Of course it has been,_ his voice of reason pipes up. _That was over 70 years ago, and that is_ definitely _Lucifer, not just a doppelganger or relative._ He’d know that smug face anywhere. He flips through, finding articles about disasters, man-made and natural, always with a handwritten note indicating Lucifer’s supposed involvement. . He leaves the book open at the article about the deaths of Charlotte and Pierce, and goes back to digging through the box. He finds a journal and begins to read. The journal dates back nearly 20 years, and Dan almost doesn’t make it past the first couple of pages. It seems so clearly the rambling of a madman.

_I have been visited by an exalted angel of our Lord, Uriel the angel of repentance. His wings shone with the light of God, though his manner of speaking was not as I expected—he seemed more bored than filled with Holy Purpose. He has tasked me with a Holy Calling of great importance. He said to me, “Priest, in the year of my Father 2011, the one you know as Satan, the Great Beast, will arrive on the Earthly plane, walking amongst the masses in plain sight as one of them. He calls himself Lucifer the Morningstar, he will choose the City of Angels as his dwelling, and he will sow mischief and inspire sin among the denizens that will flock to him. There will be one woman among them that will find her way to you, and she will be the key to banishing his evil. When she comes, you must provide her with this vial to facilitate your part—his permanent removal from this plane and back to Hell where he can no longer escape his duties.”_

_He provided me with a ceremony and a vial which he has charged me to keep safe, as it is bound to be deadly to humans if it can render the Devil himself helpless. He also left me with a prophecy:_

_“When the devil walks the Earth and finds his first love, evil shall be released.”_

_Obviously, I will do all that I can to assure that this prophecy does not come to pass. I have been entrusted to this path by God himself, and I must not fail. The Adversary will find no ground to cling to while I have breath in my body to defy him._

The date on that entry was 16 October 2002. From Dan’s research into Lucifer back when he first appeared in their lives, he knows that Lucifer’s life on paper didn’t exist prior to 2011—the year that this ‘angel’ supposedly said he would arrive. He pages forward to the more recent entries, curious now.

_12 Jun 2018_

_The woman that the angel foretold has arrived, I am sure of it. She comes from Los Angeles, researching the Adversary with a hunted look about her. She is a Detective with the Los Angeles Police Department, and says that her partner, Lucifer Morningstar, is the Devil, and that she has been shown his true face… a burned and hideous visage indicative of the monster he truly is. How he hides it she does not appear to know, but she is currently torn between proof of her eyes and her own innate disbelief in the occult._

_She seems to be having the most trouble in reconciling the facts I am giving her with the fictions he has been presenting to her for the past several years- that he does not lie, that he_ cares _about humanity and justice, that in fact,_ he _is the victim in the great heavenly battle between good and evil. This woman, this Chloe Decker has a truly good soul and it tears at me to see what this creature has wrought upon her… but I will not hesitate to use her to achieve the means of ridding humanity of the Great Beast once and for all._

_She has told me much about the façade that he offers to her, to humanity in general. His self-centeredness, his excesses in sin, his deals with humanity. His tendency to take their cases and make them personal to his own situation, this may come in handy later if I need to manipulate him without her assistance._

_17 Jun 2018_

_She has agreed to help in the plan. I have sufficiently convinced her of the dangers of having the Devil on this plane, and she has taken the vial to administer to him at her first opportunity. I will travel to Los Angeles in two days’ time and set my plan in motion. She will arrive a week or so later, after taking the rest of her vacation with her daughter—imagine, letting a beloved daughter become friends with the Adversary and one of his demons! The dangers to that poor child’s soul alone are barely to be considered in comparison to humanity as a whole, but I fear for her nonetheless. The devil corrupts, the mother is proof of that. A police detective, not only working with Satan for years, but also defending him_ to a priest _until reason and faith finally win out?_

_26 Jun 2018_

_Chloe is beginning to have doubts, though she is still willing to follow through. I’ll need to watch her closely, now that she is back in close proximity with the handsome face of the Beast, her sense of purpose is wavering. She came to the church last night after leaving him, and I came upon her sobbing in one of the pews. After a gentle reminder that we are doing what is best for_ everyone _, she steeled her resolve and remained committed to continuing the plan._

_29 Jun 2018_

_She’s changed her mind. She hasn’t said as much, but I could tell from her behaviour when we met this evening. She told me she’d needed to postpone their ‘date’ until the case was completed, but I know he’s gotten her back under his infernal sway. How strong must that be… for him to be able to brashly flaunt his true face, his true_ nature _, and_ still _be able to override common sense and the basic instinct for self-preservation to the point of defending evil itself from righteousness? I was unable to retrieve the vial from her bag, so I will need to alter my plans. I have a strong suspicion that the Beast is vulnerable in her presence, there have been multiple reports of it being wounded when she is near. I’ll need to take advantage of that, somehow._

_30 Jun 2018_

_I was so nearly successful this evening—I was correct that Ms Decker has indeed been sucked back into the Adversary’s influence. I managed to infiltrate his flat without being detected, and hid until she arrived for their dinner. He left the table, then she brought out the vial and I was so hopeful that she_ would _go through with it after all, but she set it in the center of the table, easily visible, and I knew she was about to tell him of what had been planned. She stepped into the next room, and I took my opportunity. I emptied the vial into his glass and slipped it back under the rim of her plate, hoping no one would notice it was moved until it was too late, but I underestimated the woman. She knew immediately that something was wrong, and managed to knock the poisoned glass from his hand before he could take even a sip. He_ did _cut his hand on the glass, though, and when she asked he told her that he_ is _capable of being harmed while she is near. Now all I need to do is wait. If he can be killed while near her, then I only need to bide my time._

_I’ve found that some of my work may have been done for me! The Beast currently resides at Cedars-Sinai after taking an axe-wound to the chest in Ms Decker’s vicinity. They wouldn’t give me much information, but I know he is currently unconscious. I will never have a better opportunity to rid the world of evil incarnate. I go in the name of God, his Most Holy. Give me strength and your blessing, Heavenly Father. Amen._

The journal ends there, and Dan knows why. Less than a day later, the priest was found jibbering to himself in near-madness by an anonymous witness that been told the entire plot, which was then provided to Ella before the witness ran. The priest had confirmed everything in a statement after he had come back to himself somewhat.

Dan finds himself intrigued, but also slightly disappointed. He had foolishly hoped for some _hard proof_ against Lucifer, but all he managed was this… story. He glances again at the open scrapbook next to him and his eyes fall on the article about Charlotte’s murder, and Pierce’s. Rage flares in him again. He can’t even call to schedule a counseling appointment, now that he’ll be losing his insurance through work he certainly can’t afford it.

He needs to talk to Rivas again. He boxes up the “evidence” and sets out to return it to the church. Rivas greets him within minutes of his arrival, eager to continue their conversation.

“I understand your reservations,” Rivas laments, “it is hard to fathom, especially for someone not strong in the faith. I have a plan in place to force him to reveal his true face. You need not participate, only witness the final moment when the Beast makes its true appearance. Will you agree to witness? I will let you know where and when, witnessing will be your only task.”

“Yeah, all right fine, you just give me a call when you need your ‘witness’,” Dan dismisses the man without another thought and goes back to his apartment for another round of job hunting.

**************************

That afternoon, Chloe and Lucifer get called from paperwork duty to the murder scene of one Susan Ochoa, a former gang-member-turned-rocket-scientist. Lucifer is relieved to be away from the desk, but even he is impressed at this human’s ability to have turned her life around so thoroughly.

“And I thought _I_ had range,” he quips, causing Chloe to roll her eyes with a fond smile.

A subdued Ella goes over the crime scene details: the victim had clearly known her attacker. “It's always the ones you least suspect, the ones you trust the most, that hurt you.” Lucifer and Chloe exchange nervous glances as Ella continues. “They wait until your guard is down and then wham! In my case, it was tequila...”

“Riveting.” Lucifer replies sardonically. “Miss Lopez, are you… all right?”

“Yeah, just a little headache. I skipped church yesterday and OD’d on the margaritas instead.”

 _“You_ skipped church?” Lucifer repeats incredulously.

“Yeah… I’m… a little mad at your dad right now about Charlotte. I’m not sure how I’m going to get past it.”

“Well… it’s certainly his loss, Miss Lopez.”

Chloe clears her throat. “Any witnesses?”

“None, but the victim's friend might know more. Oscar.” Ella gestures to a Latino man standing with a uniformed officer off the side, looking around as though heavily disturbed.

“Do you know anyone who would have wanted to hurt Susan, Mr. Rivas?” Chloe crosses the room and begins her interview, Lucifer drifting along quietly behind her.

“No. Everybody liked Susan.” He swallows, disturbed at the scene, and edges away from them slightly.

“Who did she trust the most?” Lucifer chimes in.

“To be honest, I don't know much about Susan's life here. I just came from El Salvador. She was supposed to pick me up from the airport. When she didn't show, I came here and...I saw all of this.”

“And how do you know her?” Chloe asks, readying her pen and notepad.

“We were in a gang, Los Xs. When I left the life, I wanted to pay it forward-- so I helped people like Susan get out and get clean.”

“She was a drug addict?” Chloe’s ears perk up at the potential for more leads.

“Don't judge her. A lot of us were.”

“Oh, I'm not judging.” Lucifer reassures him earnestly, “I love drugs.”

“Do you know if Susan still had any connection to Los Xs?” Chloe shoots Lucifer a quelling look, and he smirks but remains quiet.

“No, she made a clean break. She moved here, went to school, made an amazing life for herself. Promise me you will punish the son of a bitch that did this.” Oscar looks directly into Lucifer’s eyes as he states his request, and Lucifer is quick to respond.

“Oh... with pleasure,” he purrs.

“Okay. Thank you, Mr. Rivas.” Chloe wraps up the interview, making their plans for which leads to follow as they walk away. “We'll be in touch if we need anything.”

****************************

Ella manages to trace the purchase of the rare flowers scattered around the crime scene to Anders Brody, CEO and founder of Brody Aerospace, Susan’s employer.

“Seriously? He’s hosting a charity regatta? Compensating for something, you think?”

“Don’t you dare start with small penis jokes right now, I can’t be trying not to laugh while I’m doing this interview.” He slides a sideways smirk at her, and opens his mouth, but she interrupts before he can utter a word. “You know, you two aren’t all that dissimilar, you know. Rich, famous. Maybe notorious is a better word…”

“I would never kill a totally innocent co-worker,” he scoffs indignantly.

“Of course you wouldn’t,” she soothes, smiling, “but you do all sorts of charitable things, and mostly you don’t even draw attention to them.”

He looks at her with such shocked look on his face that she can’t help laughing. “I haven’t forgotten about that Haitian boy you sponsored from the Dunlear case. And I know you’ve got a list of people you’ve been helping along ‘behind the curtain’, because Amenadiel mentioned you left him a list of people to keep watch over when you left.”

“Well…” he opens and closes his mouth several times, looking like a very handsome landed fish. “Don’t go crowing about it, I can’t have my reputation tarnished by a litany of good works.”

She shakes her head, nudging him with her shoulder. “Only you would consider having folks _knowing_ about the good things you do having your reputation tarnished.”

“It’s bad enough I’ve gone and fallen in love,” he winks at her with a heated grin, and her cheeks flush. “Good works aside, it doesn’t do much for my ‘bad-boy’ image.”

“I think you’ll survive it,” she points out dryly, brushing the back of his hand with her fingers. He catches her pinky lightly in his and they walk together that way until they approach Brody’s boat, separating before they spot him fishing an empty bottle out of the marina.

“Anders Brody?”

“Yeah? Whoaaaa!” He looks up from his precarious position and nearly loses his balance into the marina, but Lucifer snaps out a hand and catches his collar, hauling him back up gracelessly. The man massages his neck, gasping. “Wow, thanks man… I think.”

“We’re here to talk about one of your employees, Susan Ochoa.”

“I don’t know who you’re—”

“Oh, come now, Mr. Brody, we _know_ you brought her flowers,” Lucifer oozes. “You went to her apartment for a reason, was it to kill her?”

“No, of _course_ not!”

“But you were there?” Chloe pounces on the opening.

“I… think I need to talk to my lawyer.”

“Oh, Mr. Brody,” Lucifer sounds so disappointed in him that the man looks at him in surprise, meeting his dark, magnetic eyes fully. “If you didn't kill her, what did you do? You obviously went to Susan's that evening for a reason, so tell me. What did you desire?”

“I wanted...” His eyes are locked on Lucifer’s, has jaw slack. Chloe watches carefully, gaze flickering between Lucifer and Anders in turn. It's the first time she's really gotten to see his mojo in action when he wasn't distracted by having her _in the know_.

“Hm?” Lucifer lifts an eyebrow, keeping his gaze locked on the other man.

“I wanted... forgiveness.”

“Forgiveness? Why?” Lucifer’s surprise breaks the trance, and the other man seems to come awake, but he answers the question without further prevarication.

“One day I came upon Susan as she was talking to some at-risk youth group about her past, her struggles with addiction. I had no idea and I panicked. Imagine the PR crisis. Head of Safety Protocols, a drug addict. So I demoted her, took her off the NASA project.” A flush climbs his neck and makes its way to his face, and he lowers his gaze.

“You punished her for her former life.” Lucifer curls his lip in distaste, leaning away from him.

“But then I went through her file, and I found that Susan was a model employee and she'd passed every single drug test, including the one last week.” He swallows guiltily. “It wasn't right, what I did to her.”

“So you went over to apologize.” Chloe supplies.

“But when I got there, it was too late. She was dead. I was wrong. _Oh._ ” His wide eyes find Lucifer’s again, and a beatific smile starts to spread across his face. He steps forward and enfolds an astonished Lucifer into a man-hug. “Never said that before. It feels good, man. It feels real good.”

“Uh, I'm sure it does.” Lucifer pats his upper arms and forcefully pushes him away, stepping back and putting some distance between them, straightening his jacket.

“Okay…” Chloe makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a strangled laugh, and Lucifer narrows his eyes in her direction, but she’s watching Anders. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Brody. We’ll be in touch if we have any further questions.” They walk off down the pier and Chloe can’t resist an aside to Lucifer, “Not even 24 hours after I’ve told you I want an exclusive relationship and you’re hugging other guys in front of me? Not cool, Lucifer.”

“Oh, _very_ funny Detective,” he snaps, and this time she doesn’t try to hold back her laughter. He pretends to shove her toward the marina and his warm expression when she lets her arm slip briefly around his waist under his jacket ( _only to keep her balance from the shove…_ she reasons) ignites the dormant light in her chest into a steady thrumming. She hums contentedly under breath as they head back to the cruiser, and Lucifer gives her a sideways look, his hand resting lightly at the small of her back as they walk. She catches his eye and shakes her head with a smile.

“It’s nothing, I’m just… happy.” A slow smile creeps across his lips, lighting his eyes as she grins back at him. His eyes flicker down to her mouth just as her phone rings, making both of them jump. She reaches for it more slowly than she normally would. “Hey, Ella. What's up?”

“Anders Brody didn't kill Susan Ochoa.” The lab technician sounds exhausted, but manages to inject a little energy into her update.

“Yeah, we just finished interviewing him, we don’t think so either. How did you know?”

“Because, while you’ve been with him, the real killer just struck again. Victim's name is David Ramirez. Twenty-seven, apprentice mechanic, lived in the back of the shop here. He’s got some scars that look like Los Xs tattoos that have been removed. Apparently Ramirez grew up in foster homes, he got mixed up with the wrong crowd, got arrested a bunch of times. But four years ago, he goes to night school, gets his mechanic certification and he's been clean ever since.

“Just like Susan Ochoa,” Lucifer’s leaning close, his chin nearly resting on her shoulder on the side she’s holding the phone, though she knows he doesn’t need to in order to hear Ella. She casts a look in his direction and gently leans back against his chest. His eyebrows lift in surprise and his lips pucker a bit in pleasure at her unexpected positive response to his proximity.

“Okay Ella,” Chloe pulls herself back to the phone call at hand. “I’ll do a search for any current or former known Los Xs members in the LA area and we’ll see what pops. You’re the best!”

With Dan gone, that means Chloe has to do her own gruntwork, which makes Lucifer bridle in affront. “Surely there are other officers that can do these menial tasks?”

“The precinct is short-handed, so until we get some more officers, we’ll just have to make do with what we can get. You don’t have to stay, I know paperwork isn’t your thing, and that’s really all this is.”

Lucifer is both relieved and reluctant to leave. “Well… I do have a small list of things I need to do for Lux’s operations, but I can stay if you need me to, Detective.”

“Go to Lux,” she smiles, lightly emphasizing _to Lux_ just on the off-chance he might take it that she wants him to back to Hell again. “Take care of your business, and I’ll call you when I’m leaving, okay? Maybe you can come to dinner again?

“Ooooo, our first night in??” His eyes light up with interest. “Will we have _leftovers?”_

“I ate the leftovers for lunch today,” she laughs. “We didn’t have as much as we usually do because a certain devil has a very disproportionate appetite for his size.”

“Then I shall provide dinner this evening, to make up for my monstrous _lust_ for sustenance.” He grins at her, eyes sparking with far more than lust for _sustenance_. She feels her face flush and she shoos him away before she leans in to kiss him in the middle of precinct. Form or no, that’s not something she’s ready for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know , this case is canonically out of order, but with Kinley getting arrested so quickly, Oscar just waited longer to put the plan into effect. And obviously, this story isn't canon anyway, so... I guess it can turn up whenever it wants!


	36. Like Hell I Will

Just as Chloe is preparing to leave the office for the day, Detective Lewis drops by her desk with a file folder.

“Hey Decker, this just came through for your case, looks like a former Los Xs member just flew into LA a few weeks ago.” She holds out the folder for Chloe to take. “Hope it’s your guy!”

Chloe takes the folder, already flipping it open with an absent-minded, “Thanks, Lewis.” The woman walks away with a half-smile on her face, well familiar with Chloe’s absolute focus on her cases.

“Shit,” Chloe mumbles to herself, looking at the photo in the file. She fumbles out her phone to dial Lucifer. “Yeah, I think this is our guy, all right.”

“Detective!” he crows happily as he answers. “I was just thinking- does the Urchin like Chinese food? There’s this wonderful little—”

“Lucifer, I know who the killer is.” Chloe blurts, “It’s Rivas, Susan Ochoa’s drug counselor. He was the counselor for David Ramirez, too.”

“So you're saying they trusted him, made their dark sides vulnerable and then he just stabbed them in the back.” His voice is even, inflectionless.

“Yeah, pretty much.” Her stomach twists, this is _so_ similar to their own situation just a few weeks ago, the parallels are impossible not to draw.

“Why?” he barks hoarsely.

“That's the million-dollar question.” Chloe swallows. “I have an address here, where he’s supposed to be staying.”

“Where is he?” Lucifer growls, and she provides the location. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Lucifer, wait, I’ll pick you—” but the call is disconnected. _“Shit._ ”

She scrabbles for her keys and calls for backup as she runs for her cruiser.

***********************

Dan was surprised to receive the call from Rivas, but after an entire frustrating day with no job leads and a growing sense of desperation, he was glad for the distraction. He was instructed to come alone to a residential address. He felt a pang of misgiving, but shrugged it off.

_At this point, what do I have to lose?_

Dan arrives at the house and Rivas answers the door. It’s nondescript, blending well into the community and nicely furnished. Dan is shown into a hidden room behind a two-way mirror.

“Here is where you will witness. One of the priests from my church was also supposed to be here, but… something must have happened. They should be here shortly, and then you will _see_ the truth, Dan. You must witness!”

“Yeah, sure buddy, I’ll be watching.” Dan’s still not convinced he’s going to get anything useful out of this, but at least if he’s here ‘witnessing’ whatever this is, he’s not worried about his current situation.

Rivas places himself in the sitting room in front of the mirror, calmly paging through his dog-eared bible as he waits.

After about half an hour, the door bursts open, Dan jumps, reaching for the gun he no longer carries. A familiar voice, raspy with bitterness, rings out:

“You! How could you just murder them?” Lucifer storms into the room, door hanging crookedly open behind him. _Had he just broken it off the hinges? Rivas was the murderer? What is going on?_

“I did what needed to be done.” Rivas counters calmly, closing his bible but not bothering to get up from his chair.

“They trusted you! They shared their darkest truths and you just betray them?” Lucifer glowers with rage, and Dan could almost swear he sees his eyes flicker red.

“And I would happily do it again!” Oscar declares smugly as he stands up, spreading his hands out to his sides.

“Oh, this is going to be fun.” Lucifer laughs maniacally as he grasps the man by the front of his shirt and casually lifts and tosses him into the rickety chair, splintering it to bits as Dan looks on, gaping. He knew the man was strong, but _damn_.

“I showed those losers the real me.” Oscar wipes a dribble of blood from his face, smirking at the wrathful consultant before him, baiting him. Dan starts to move for the door, he needs to intervene before someone gets hurt--

“Careful,” Lucifer growls, his voice unnaturally deep as he pins the unresisting man against the wall. “Or I'll show you the real me.”

“Oh, yes. Do it! I thought they could change. But they couldn't. Dave was stealing again. Susan was back on drugs. They were trash. So I killed them.” There isn’t a shred of remorse or guilt in Rivas’ voice as he faces down the larger man before him. He looks exultant, as though he is unassailable. “What are you going to do?”

“I'll show you.” And now Dan sees that his eyes _aren’t_ flickering, they’re _glowing_ red. Little spots of what appears to be burned skin are showing through on Lucifer’s handsome face and neck. His eyes widen in terrified disbelief as the true face of the Devil slowly shines through. 

“Show me what you've got. Come on, Lucifer. Show us who you really are.” Rivas spits the challenge, and Lucifer freezes at the words, his transformation reversing immediately.

“You _want_ me to punish you? Why?”

“Hands in the air.” Chloe bursts into the room, and Dan takes the opportunity to flee the building, running several blocks on wobbly legs before doubling back along a different route and retrieving his car.

Chloe’s requested backup arrives just a few minutes later, finding their suspect handcuffed and despondently slumped against the wall. Ella comes cruising into the room, apparently on her fourth caffeine high of the day.

“Found some bloody clothes, another knife, same as the others.” She goes off to the side to catalogue the findings, leaving the Detective and the Devil in the middle of the trashed sitting room.

“And who owns the house?” Lucifer asks her, though he’s certain he already knows.

“I don't know, I'll see if we have that yet. Man... this dude is seriously messed up, to be able to murder these two people that trusted him with the worst parts of themselves…” she lets that sentence drift off as she realizes her audience. “I mean, um, it’s just that… uh…”

“It’s quite all right, Miss Lopez, we’ve already had this discussion amongst ourselves,” Lucifer assures her. “Still touchy, yes, but we’re working on our collective trust issues, thank you.”

“Are you guys okay?” Ella asks, noting the tense look on Chloe’s face, and the drawn expression on Lucifer’s.

“Something else was happening here,” Lucifer murmurs, just loud enough for the two women to hear. “Something strange. He knew about my true face. He wanted me to show it to him.”

“Why?” Chloe wonders, glancing around the room suspiciously, her gaze landing on the large mirror on the wall.

“I don't know. But I could have sworn that he said, ‘Show us your face.’ ” Lucifer’s eyes are also lingering on the mirror, and he picks up a silver urn contemplatively.

“Us? But there was no-one else here?” Ella ventures.

“Unless it's a two-way mirror—” Chloe begins.

 _CRASH._ Lucifer suddenly turns and flings the urn through the mirror, the two women’s gasps of surprise drowned by the brittle tinkling of the falling shards of silvered glass, revealing a hidden room inside with two chairs, one knocked askew.

“Uh, that was evidence,” Ella lectures, “This is a secure crime scene. Never mind.” She turns to take a folder from another technician and looks back up at her friends. “You're never going to believe who owns the house.”

“The Catholic Church.” It isn’t a guess, and Lucifer continues, “One of Father Kinley’s friends must have been watching.”

“I think Kinley must have arranged all of this to get to you.” Chloe can’t meet Lucifer’s burning gaze. “He wanted to show someone who... or what... you really are. He must have arranged this failsafe with Rivas, he must have known that I wouldn’t follow through somehow.”

“Detective,” he gently places his fingers under her chin and tips her face up to meet his eyes. “This would have happened eventually, regardless. Kinley is a fanatic, and we’ve managed to nab this zealot as well. He’s already told us that we’ve at least one more person to watch for – he slipped up when he taunted me to ‘show us’ my face. So… I’ll simply keep watch. Though perhaps for your own safety, it may be best if you keep your distance for a little while, wouldn’t want you caught in the crossfire after all.”

“Like Hell I will!” she flares quietly back at him. “You’re still invulnerable around me, right?”

Lucifer picks up a shard of glass and thrusts it into his arm as Chloe strangles a gasp of denial. It shatters to dust against his skin without the slightest mark.

“Just checking,” he shrugs. “Still good.”

“Then one more set of eyes can’t hurt to watch your back." She exhales shakily, her fingers tracing over the bared skin where he'd just tried to stab himself. "We don’t know for certain that he doesn’t have some other kind of celestial weapon ferreted away somewhere, and I’m not willing to take that chance.” Lucifer’s eyes don’t leave her face the entire time she’s delivering her tirade, and the little confused crease between his brows is what breaks her. She spells it out for him: “I am _not_ going to leave you to face the consequences of _my_ actions alone.”

“Detective,” the word is quiet, bewildered. It makes her stomach turn a somersault just as it had on that beach what feels like forever ago, and she reacts just the same way: she pulls him close and molds her lips to his. This kiss is not shy, or tentative. She pours into it her fierce determination to be by his side, to watch out for him, and she feels the light of her divinity warming in response to that determination. He slowly places the palms of his hands on her waist, his long fingers nearly meeting at the small of her back as he holds her close, and time disappears. Eventually someone notices and a piercing wolf-whistle breaks the spell, followed by a round of raucous cheers and applause from her fellow officers. They break apart, Lucifer grinning at their audience, and Chloe flushed but at least managing not to hide her face against Lucifer's broad chest. His sheer joy at her kissing him in front of their coworkers is enough to get her to laugh along with everyone else, accepting congratulations on their finally ‘outing’ themselves officially.

************************

Dan’s phone rings, but he ignores it, simply focusing on driving. _I can’t believe the crazy priest was_ right _._ The thought keeps circling in his head as he returns to his apartment at top speed, heedless of the speed limit. He pulls into the parking garage, _just_ managing not to make the tires squeal and hares for his apartment as though hellhounds were on his heels – hell, for all he knows, they _are._

He barricades his door and pulls his backup weapon from his gun safe, tucking it into the waistband of his jeans, then collapses on his couch, pulling his knees up to his chest and covering his head with his trembling hands.

 _The Devil. Lucifer is the freaking REAL Devil. The asshole consultant that’s been needling at him since the day they met, sneering at him, stealing his wife, making his life harder in every way possible… is the real-life, honest-to-God Devil._ Dan can’t get those glowing eyes out of his head, they’re like that Eye of Sauron in the Lord of the Rings films… they can see every impure thought and action he’s ever had or acted on. Every missed family date, every cut corner on cases, the setup with Deputy Warden Perry after he got off scott free for murdering Chloe’s father – oh God, if Lucifer really _is_ the Devil then is Maze really a demon? His daughter’s best _friend_ is a demon?? He at least knows a little about Lucifer from Kinley’s journal but he doesn’t have the slightest idea about what Maze is truly capable of, other than practically taking down an army single-handed with nothing but a couple of tiny curved knives and a lot of unadulterated glee.

Kinley’s in jail. Rivas is going to jail. As far as Dan’s aware, there’s no one else to continue the work of getting the Devil back to Hell where he belongs. Rivas’ voice whispers in his head,

_“You must witness!”_

_Shit. Does this mean it falls to me to kill the Devil? How does that even work?_ He thinks back to Kinley’s journal again. Lucifer had told Chloe that he was weaker in her presence, that he could be hurt. Kinley had noted that with the glass- and Dan had proof of it with the axe-wound. What… _Why would the Devil willingly take a wound like that for a human? Why would he even hang around Chloe, knowing she was like his own personal Kryptonite?_ Dan tries to think clearly about that, but all he can see in his mind’s eye is Lucifer and Chloe. The way they stand so close to one another. The looks that they share, the way their eyes follow one another no matter what they’re doing or where they are, like… like…

_When the Devil walks the Earth and finds his first love, evil shall be released._

Oh. _Fuck_.

It really _is_ up to Dan to save the world, now. There’s no one else. Those eyes fill his mind like red-hot coals, burning their way in until there’s no room for anything else, his grip on rational thought slips away and he plans. His phone rings, but it doesn’t matter. Only the plan matters. Only ridding the world of the source of all evil matters.

******************

“I can’t thank you and Amenadiel enough for doing this, Linda,” Chloe says again, gratitude oozing thickly in her voice. She’s already said goodbye to her daughter, who had cheerfully started peppering Amenadiel with questions. “It’s so good of you to keep her until we’re at least fairly certain someone isn’t going to come bursting in with some new murderous weapon.”

“She’s no trouble, Chloe,” Linda laughs off her thanks yet again. “Trixie is a great kid, and frankly, I can use all the childcare practice I can get at this point.”

“Babies are a whole different ballgame, Linda,” Chloe warns with a warm smile.

“Well, then I’ll just have to retain what I learn for later use, won’t I?” Linda winks, then turns somber. “Besides, if somebody really _is_ after Lucifer, and you two are together, having Amenadiel around to help protect Trixie won’t be a bad thing. That way you two can watch each other’s backs. Where _is_ Dan, anyway?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Chloe toys with the end of her tight ponytail restlessly. “His car is at his apartment, and I can hear movement inside when I’ve gone to knock, but his super won’t let me in since I’m not on the lease and he’s not getting any complaints about him. My guess is he’s either too ashamed at getting fired to face me, or he’s binge-drinking for awhile until he can pull himself together and look for a new job. The binge-drinking thing would be a new development, but with everything he’s been through lately… it might not surprise me.”

“Do you want me to ask Amenadiel to check on him?” Linda offers, wanting to help alleviate some of the worries her friend is currently facing.

“That’s a really great idea… maybe once we get this taken care of. I’d rather you guys just… focus on keeping Trixie safe for now. Dan doesn’t have anybody stalking him, at least that we know of!” She tries a laugh, but it falls flat, and Linda leans in to give her a hug. 

“We’ll take care of your kiddo. You and Lucifer take care of _each other_. All right?”

“It’s a deal.”

“Oh dear, he’s already rubbing off on you, I see.”

“You have no idea,” Chloe replies archly. Linda grins after her as she moves back to the car, where Lucifer is already waiting. “Ready?”

“As ready as we’re likely to be for an unknown assailant with undisclosed abilities and potential weapons. At least we know Mazikeen isn’t involved, or missing any of her hell-forged blades this time.”

“Thank goodness for small favors,” Chloe agrees vehemently. Lucifer reaches over and covers her hand with his reassuringly, and she smiles across the console at him. “Let’s go.”

They arrive at Lux and take the service elevator to the penthouse level. Lucifer does a sweep of the level and finds nothing, then just to be thorough does a sweep of Maze’s now-empty level. She and Eve had found a new place already, although she had offered to come back when they informed her of what they were currently dealing with.

He arrives back on his own level, declaring both clear. Chloe takes her overnight bag and moves toward the bedroom, declaring herself exhausted. His eyes follow her, but he makes no move to do so himself. He heads for the bar, pouring himself a drink before ambling out to the balcony, staring up at the few dimly shining stars that manage to stubbornly penetrate the light haze of LA. He says his silent hellos to his familiar heavenly children, shining down on him from so very far away, both in time and space. He hears Chloe approach so he doesn’t jump when her arm snakes around his waist, only reaches over to wrap his arm around her shoulders and draw her close.

“You surprised me this evening, Detective,” he admits quietly, still looking up at his stars.

“Well, you surprised _me_ this morning, so I suppose we’re even,” She leans into him, smirking up at the inquisitive face now aimed at her.

“This morning? What did I do this morning?”

“With Hernandez.” She clarifies, “I heard you as I was leaving, asking her to keep quiet, not to gossip about us turning in that form because you didn’t want me to be embarrassed to be associated so closely with you.”

"Oh, that." He shrugs off her remarks about his consideration as easily as he shrugged off her mention of his anonymous charitable efforts earlier in the day at the regatta. "It was nothing, Detective, anything I can do to lessen your chances of regretting taking a chance on us, I will happily do."

"Lucifer, I am not ashamed to be linked with you. I'm not embarrassed."

"I beg your pardon," he sniffs huffily, "Your face was the color of a tomato after you got got caught kissing me this evening, you were most definitely embarrassed." He glances down at her and his gaze softens. "But you did it anyway."

"I was embarrassed because public displays of affection at work are really not my thing, not because of anything to do with you, Lucifer." She has to be clear, because he doesn't necessarily understand the difference. 

He ponders this for a moment. "I suppose that makes sense. The one time I can recall, you were a right mess the entire case."

"What?" Now it's her turn to be confused. 

"With Pierce. When you arrived at the crime scene with 'DNA' on your shirt?" She can feel her face flushing with mortification all over again at the reminder, and the realization that he had known what had happened... But hadn't made her feel badly about it. 

"I... Didn't think you knew." she mumbles, and he laughs, tightening his arm around her shoulders.

"Oh, Detective, it's impossible to fool the devil about something like that. I can always tell, especially with you. You're not subtle, darling. The time I walked in the room when you two had been holding hands you not only stood up, but insisted I take your seat... Completely ignoring the fact that there were loads of other seats in the room."

"Can we not talk about Pierce right now?" She lets the hand resting on his hip slide lower until she's caressing his butt through his trousers. "Please?"

"Ooh, Detective," he purrs happily, "I thought we were working?" 

"Mmm, not really." She pretends to ponder. "This particular situation might be case-related, but we're off the clock, and I'm here for you, not the case." 

"Are you, now?" He teases, and then his lips are on hers, simultaneously robbing her of breath and filling her with life. It's nothing like any of the previous kisses they'd shared, even their half-asleep makeout session hadn't had this level of intensity, of connection to it. They crash together like waves on a storm-tossed sea, with all the tender ferocity of two fighting to become one. His right hand finds its place at the base of her head, threading fingers tightly into her hair and she moans against his lips as his left hand pulls her more tightly to him by her hip. One of her hands threads into the shorter hairs at the base of his neck, but she reluctantly abandons that particular piece of heaven to start unbuttoning his shirt. She manages, despite being pressed so tightly against his body that hardly any space to maneuver remains... His bare chest as she sweeps the fabric from his broad shoulders is a welcome testament to her tenacity. She undoes the cuff on his left arm, then tugs his right hand from its firmly entrenched position in her hair to undo that cuff so he can rid himself of the shirt entirely. He stands motionless but for his panting breaths causing the riotous rise and fall of his defined chest as she slips her own shirt over her head. She drops the fabric as their eyes each sweep the other, his lingering at her shoulder where her bullet scar had been, hers at the right lower rib cage where the axe had embedded. All evidence of those wounds erased but for the scars in their respective memories. They're standing closely, their heaving chests not quite brushing each other when he holds out his hand between them, palm up. It's an invitation, a silent plea that she's all too eager to grant. Her fingers interlace with his and he brings the back of her hand to rest against his racing heart for a moment before he leads her through the balcony doors to the bedroom, eyes never leaving hers. 


	37. Noticias malas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, the comments seemed to be split pretty evenly between option A and option 'I WILL READ ANYTHING THAT'S POSTED'. So... since I had to write it out in order to get this chapter anyway, I posted it as a separate work. If Deckerstar insists on more 'moments', I'll add them as chapters to the other, er, spicier work, and place a link like this one in the notes at the beginning of the chapter the scene precedes. So: Here's the link to the smutty bonus chapter. I'll apologize in advance.  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/27515281

Their lovemaking ranges from athletic to languid, sometimes playful and others so emotionally intense that it seems their eyes and bodies convey more than words ever could. The thrumming current between them never fades entirely, merely waxes and wanes in intensity. Lucifer doesn’t notice the little static sparks on their skin again, and quickly writes them off as overwrought imaginings brought on by fulfilling so many of his fantasies in a single night. Exhausted and thoroughly mussed, they fall into exhausted sleep in the wee hours of the morning, only to be rudely wakened mere hours later by Chloe’s alarm.

Dual groans emanate from under the twisted blankets as the entwined pair tries to seek shelter from the world within the confines of their own blissful bubble. Finally, Chloe emerges into the chilly morning air to shut the damn thing off before collapsing on her back next to Lucifer, who is eyeing her with half-lidded, sleepy but entirely satisfied eyes. It’s the look of a well-fed jungle cat, and she can practically hear him purring. She stretches languidly, feeling taut muscles loosen, and just a touch of soreness in _all_ the right places from well-exercised muscles.

“Good morning, Detective,” he props himself over her on an elbow, smiling softly down at her as the golden morning light pours over his shoulders and dark hair, casting stark shadows and outlining his edges in an otherworldly glow.

“Good morning. Are you going into the office today?” She reaches out a hand to caress his stubbled cheek, and he leans into her touch. He smiles as her fingers trace around his lips and chin. “It’s probably gonna be more paperwork, I didn’t get nearly enough finished yesterday.”

He groans at the prospect, flopping onto his back next to her, propping his head on one arm behind it. “I’m surprised you haven’t gotten a call for a case. When is the last time—” he’s interrupted by her ringing phone and they glance at each other ruefully. “Bugger.”

She has to clear her throat several times to stop laughing before she can answer the call, which _is_ indeed, a case. She takes down the details and thanks the dispatch officer before disconnecting the call. She checks her text history with a grimace, and sets the phone down.

“I suppose that answers your question on whether I’m coming with you.” He offers dryly.

“Well, I _do_ need my partner.”

“What was that face for, before you put down the phone?”

“Ugh, Dan still hasn’t responded to my texts checking up on him. He must be sulking.” She shakes her head, annoyed. “I can’t worry about him right now, though, we’ve got work to do.”

“Well then, _we_ had better shower.” He springs up with far too much energy for as little sleep as they’ve gotten, chuckling at her attempts to burrow back under the sheets. “Come on, then Detective, it’ll go much faster if we shower together. Saving time _and_ water- very environmentally conscious, you know.” He paces out of the bedroom to go start the coffee, and she’s managed to free herself from his ridiculously comfortable bed by the time he meanders back into the room, still gloriously, shamelessly naked. She watches him and snickers to herself.

“Will it really be faster?” She asks facetiously.

“Why, Detective, do you see something distracting?” He spreads his hands and turns slowly, as he’d done the first time he presented himself to her this way… _sans_ scars this time.

“C’mon Satan,” she slowly stalks past him, giving him a light slap on the ass as she passes. “Let’s go shower so we can get to work.” She hears him chuckling as he paces close behind her to the bathroom.

***************

Unsurprisingly, showering together is _not_ faster, but it _is_ extremely satisfying. They somehow both manage to complete their morning routines at his single (enormous) vanity with the ease of a couple with long practice. Chloe attributes that to working together for so long, they simply know how to move around one another. Lucifer takes less time to dress than she does, but takes longer with his grooming routine, so they’re both ready for coffee at the same time.

Since they’re going to a crime scene and not the precinct, they opt to drive together. The cat’s already out of the bag anyway, but at least arriving to crime scenes together isn’t unusual for them. As they approach the scene, Lucifer is his usual, entirely unruffled self and Chloe tries to emulate that. They’re adults, everything is aboveboard, nothing is different than any other day… except that today she’s having trouble keeping her mind on the case, and not on the way Lucifer moves. On the way his voice seems pitched in just the right way to make her insides turn to jelly and his slightest touch ignites a line of fire straight to her nethers.

_Get a grip, Decker, you’re not a schoolgirl with her first crush!_

Ella greets them cheerfully with the enormous smile of the well-rested… and well-caffeinated. Her eyes flicker between the pair and her smile widens even more. “Did you two come… _together??_ ” She adds the last word in a stage whisper, glancing around conspicuously to see if anyone is nearby.

“Uh—” Lucifer begins helpfully.

“Ella!” Chloe grabs her attention, giving her a quelling look. “Yeah. We did. I stayed at Lux last night because we’re afraid whoever was in that room is going to come after Lucifer next.”

The forensic technician’s eyes flicker between the two in concern before curiosity wins out. “But… did you guys… you know?” She wriggles her eyebrows in what’s probably meant to be a suggestive way at Lucifer, who glances helplessly at Chloe. She gives in, knowing he can’t lie.

“Ella… yes. We did, okay?” Ella’s beaming grin is only surpassed by Lucifer’s, and she squeals excitedly, drawing looks from some of the unis on scene. Chloe hurries to redirect her. “Details later, I promise, but for now… what have we got on the vic?”

“Marta Simms, 48. Cause of death, gunshot wound to the head, about 10 days ago. No weapon found in the house, looks like a 9mm bullet hole.” Ella glances back into the house with a saddened look on her face. “She lived alone. No sign of forced entry or other presence in the house. No signs of struggle.”

“Ten days?” Chloe clarifies, “No one checked on her in all that time? Do we have her next of kin information?”

“The neighbors reported hearing a loud bang around that time, but Marta seems like she kept to herself more often than not. Still checking on kin.” Ella heads back into the house with Chloe on her heels, Lucifer trailing along behind them both. The smell of death and corruption hangs thickly in the air, and Chloe holds her sleeve up to her nose in an attempt to stave some of it off.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot about that. Here—” she offers Chloe a small tub of Vapo-Rub. “Dab it under your nose, it helps combat the smell.”

“Thanks, Ella,” Chloe dips her finger and rubs it under her nose with a breath of relief. Ella offers the tub to Lucifer, who politely declines. She lifts an eyebrow at him, and he gives her a sardonic smile.

“I’m afraid I’ve gotten rather used to the smell of death and decay over the centuries, Miss Lopez. It’s a fairly common scent in Hell.” Ella’s eyes widen in understanding and Chloe marvels again at this man—this _angel—_ who has been exposed to so much horror and pain, literally the very worst of humanity for eons on end, and still has even rudimentary empathy and kindness intact within him. He catches her look and glances askance at her. “What, Detective?”

“Nothing,” she reassures him, and he lifts an admonishing eyebrow at the lie. “Only that I’m glad you’re not stuck down there anymore.”

“Ah.” He clears his throat and straightens his jacket. “Well, that makes two of us.”

 _“Three_ of us.” Ella corrects immediately from halfway across the room, still making her notes on the scene.

They canvas the neighbors, but no one recalls anything out of the ordinary in the days or weeks leading up to the death. Everyone on the street had essentially the same opinion: The woman was nice enough, but had never reached out or tried to be friendly beyond the superficial waving if both happened to be outside at the same time. They hadn’t noticed any visitors, and the victim had worked from home, so not seeing her coming and going for days at a time was not a noteworthy event. Authorities had been notified when Marta’s cleaning service had dropped in for their monthly deep-clean and found the body. The maid was pretty shaken up when they interviewed her, but had no helpful information on the victim.

“No, I don’t even have a key, I have a code to get in through the garage door. She was always working when I would come, so I would just do my thing and work around her. She’d have her earbuds and I’d have mine, barely said ten words at a time. This was the easiest job on my route. She never complained, wasn’t chatty or in the way. She seemed nice, just… kind of in her own little world.”

“Do you notice anything out of place today, Hannah?” Chloe asks gently. “Anything that might have been moved, or missing?” The young woman’s eyes flicker into the next room where the body is.

“I… didn’t really look? I mean, I walked in and the _smell_ … I found her and ran outside and puked in the bushes. I didn’t stick around inside to see anything. Called the cops and they told me to wait for you guys.”

“Would you mind going in for a quick look to see if anything pops out at you as being different? We have something that can help with the smell.”

She reluctantly agrees, dons the Vapo-Rub and walks around the house. She hesitates in the bedroom, and turns to Chloe. “The bed isn’t made. That’s not normal for her. She was always pretty neat—the only reason she wanted me was for a deeper clean every few weeks, I think she might have had allergies or something.”

They finish their walk-through, but nothing else stands out. Chloe thanks her and gives her a card, asking her to call if she thinks of anything else. Afterward, it was back to the precinct for some background running, trying to find next of kin or any leads to find out what may have happened.

She had worked from home as a call center agent for an insurance company. None of her co-workers knew her personally, not even her manager, aside from being able to say that she was a reliable worker. Nothing odd in her financials.

“This poor, sad, boring woman.” Lucifer finally sighs, putting down the sheaf of papers he’s been shuffling through for the past two hours with a shake of his head. “Her call history was entirely made up of takeout places. She had a _flip phone_ , for Dad’s sake! Even Daniel finally traded his in last year…”

Ella comes barreling out of her office and moves directly to Chloe’s desk. “You guys gotta come into my lab right now.”

********************

Dan has hit the mother lode. All of Rivas’ information that had been left at the church would be collected by the LAPD, so that’s out of reach. After some thought, he remembers the reporter that had shadowed Lucifer and Chloe a couple of years ago. When he’d died, Dan had been one of the officers in charge of going through the man’s shambles of an office, and nearly _everything_ in there had reflected a fixation on Lucifer. It turned out the man hadn’t been as crazy as Dan had thought—he’d just been in on the truth.

Dan had arrived at the newspaper’s office and asked to speak to the editor. The woman had recognized him on sight, and he hadn’t even had to lie and say was with the LAPD. All he needed to do was ask for the research files from Reese Getty’s office at the time of his death. The overworked woman had happily assigned an intern to dig the files out of storage and sent Dan on his way with several boxes of material. He’d spent most of the last two days going through it, and now he had even more questions.

Reese had smaller files on Chloe, on Maze, Pierce, Ella, Amenadiel… and Charlotte. It was a little disturbing how much the reporter had been able to dig up, even without having concrete proof. In the realization of everything that Lucifer was hiding ( _Could it be called hiding, if he was literally spouting the truth every time someone even looks in his direction?)_ , he hadn’t taken into account that Charlotte was… something… to Lucifer. Dan had thought she’d been his step-mom, but she and Lucifer were… or least _appeared to be_ … nearly the same age. Lucifer had called her Mum, and so had Amenadiel. Their relationship seemed to stretch back to the time when the brothers were very young. Now that he _knows_ Lucifer is the real Devil… he has to rethink Charlotte. What does Stepmother to the Devil entail? Is God on Tinder? Did he match up with Charlotte on eHarmony way back when?

 _Did… did I fall in love with God’s ex-wife??_ If that’s the case, then Pierce’s identity is the least of the things Charlotte had hidden from him, and somehow that only makes his despairing grief dig even deeper. That she hadn’t trusted him with these things, these huge pieces of who she was.

But the most important part, Dan reminds himself—shaking himself out of those spiraling thoughts—is that Reese had also surmised that Chloe’s proximity made the Devil vulnerable. So that’s two independent sources, plus his own second-hand experience with the axe-wound that the Devil would be killable as long as Chloe was nearby.

It gives him hope, and that’s exactly what he needs right now. He starts to plan in earnest, now that he’s done what research he can. He clears Trixie’s pictures from one of his walls and starts to use it for his planning board, and soon it’s covered in sticky notes—everything he knows about the Devil’s habits and schedule. What he knows about Lux security and layout. If that priest could sneak in there, so could he.

His primary problem is that he doesn’t know how close Chloe needs to be, and he’s only going to get one shot at this. _If I’m lucky._ Dan’s no sniper, and he doesn’t have the slightest idea how he’d get access to a poison. He’s okay in a fight, but he’s seen Lucifer in action and knows that, vulnerable or not, Dan doesn’t have a prayer against him. His best chance is with his gun. But if Chloe’s nearby, there’s no way she’s going to just stand aside and let him shoot her partner. Hell, if Kinley’s journal was right, Chloe’s under his sway—she’d probably throw herself in front of the bullet to try to save him.

 _How am I going to do this?_ He briefly entertains the idea (again) of calling Amenadiel and asking him questions. But if Amenadiel is one of the angels that fell with Lucifer, then is he even a trustworthy source? Sure, Dan likes him, but… he’d liked Lucifer well enough to almost consider him a friend, once. Grief twists in his chest as he wishes again that Charlotte were here… she would know what to do.

***********************

“What have you got, Ella?” Chloe asks eagerly.

 _“Noticias malas,”_ she murmurs, closing the blinds and the door to the lab behind them. “We got results on the prints from that hidden room in the Catholic Church house. It actually didn’t take any time at all once we could actually _run_ them, because… they’re Dan’s.”

“Oh.” Lucifer’s voice sinks dismally. “Well, that explains why he’s not returning your texts or taking your calls, Detective. He _saw_ me.”

“Did you flash your face at Rivas?” Chloe asks, aghast. His face had been normal when she’d come in the door with her service weapon drawn.

“I… don’t know,” he admits. “I’m quite sure that at the very least my eyes flashed red. I… can’t always tell when my face changes, if I’m truly upset or angry.”

“Dude, your eyes glow?” Ella’s own eyes are huge in her head. “That’s so friggin’ cool, can I see?”

“Erm… perhaps another time, Miss Lopez?” he suggests and she immediately capitulates, but makes a mental note to ask him again later, when the timing is better. “What do we do now, Detective?”

“The Lieutenant is watching us… _because_ of Dan. There’s no way we can cover this, and it’s going to be assigned to another Detective. No way will we get to keep it now.” Chloe bites her lip. “So… I guess it comes down to… do we think Dan is going to run, or try to come after you?”

“Well…” Ella offers hesitantly, “No offense, but you kinda did both, Decker, so… maybe we should plan for both, just in case?”

“I checked his apartment yesterday, and he was _there_ ,” Chloe bulls past the hurt from the completely true accusation. Lucifer bridges the distance between them with a light touch to her shoulder, and she leans into him, accepting the comfort and forgiveness she can practically _feel_ him radiating. “But I didn’t run right away either, I was here for nearly a week before I’d wrapped up things well enough to go without raising more red flags.”

“And I’m invulnerable now, even if you’re nearby, so… really we shouldn’t have to worry about anything, yes?” Lucifer asks brightly.

“Here’s the thing… how did Rivas meet up with Dan? Kinley never even met Dan, that I know of.” Chloe wracks her brain for a moment before giving it up. She continues bitterly, “I’ll have to go brief the Lieutenant. I’m probably going to be suspended anyway because I’m all wrapped up in this too—One of the things provided with Rivas’ belongings at the church was Kinley’s journal, I’m sure it’s got some damning information about _me_ in there, and everyone knows I was in Rome for my ‘vacation’.”

"Detective..." Lucifer trails off, unsure what to say.

"It's okay Lucifer, I really _should_ be held accountable for all this-- none of it would have happened if I'd just... reacted differently." She turns to open the door and he stops her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. 

"Do you want me in there with you?"

"Yes," she replies without hesitation, "But I need you to stay out here anyway. I'm sure the Lieutenant will want to speak with you after I give my story."

"What are you going to tell him? You know I can't lie..."

"Can you hear me in there, if you're sitting at my desk?"

"Of course, I can hear Cacuzza snoring in the evidence lockup from here." He scoffs, "Your desk to the Lieutenant's office is nothing."

"Okay." She bites her lip, as she thinks. "I'm going to tell him as much of the truth as I can. Listen in, and hopefully it'll be enough that you can play off what I tell him."

"All right," he agrees reluctantly. He draws her into an embrace. "I trust you."

The blinds are drawn, so she allows herself to truly relax into his arms for a moment, drawing on the strength he's offering her. She notices the light thrumming in her chest again. It's been present all day, but she's only been aware of it at a subconscious level. He hums into her hair, and she reluctantly lets him go. "You feel that too, right?"

"I certainly do, Detective. All day." He grins, "It's been a quite pleasant distraction, really. Now, is it all right if I wait in here with Miss Lopez? I do believe I owe her some details that were promised..."

Ella's face lights up at the prospect of getting her Deckerstar details fulfilled, and Chloe rolls her eyes at the pair of them. "Fine! Just... not too loudly, okay? If I get suspended I just don't want it to be said it was for inappropriate conduct with a co-worker."

"Not a problem, Decker, this glass is nearly soundproof." Ella grins and gives her a brief hug in support. "Do you want to take these fingerprints to the Lieutenant, then? He'll probably need to provide the case file to the new Detective on the case since he'll be pulling you."

"Thanks Ella, I mean it. You've done your usual fantastic job here." She grabs the file and marches to the Lieutenant's office with her head held high, with Lucifer and Ella watching through the slats in the blinds. When the door closes behind her, Ella turns to Lucifer.

"Okay, spill," she commands playfully, "Tell me _everything._ "

********************

Ella listens to the Devil gush about his relationship with his Detective, and she can practically see the little beating hearts circling around his head. There are a few gaps in the conversation where he listens intently to what's going on in the Lieutenant's office, but on the whole he's able to converse with her normally as he listens. He withholds enough of the details to maintain Chloe's privacy and dignity, but he shares more than enough to confirm to Ella what she already knew: These two knuckleheads are so deeply in love that they're drowning in it. 

He finally finishes his recitation, and they both sigh happily. 

"Now," he continues sadly, glancing toward the Lieutenant's office, "if only we can keep Daniel from completely bollocksing it all up."

"You said you're not breakable around Decker anymore?" Ella confirms.

"Yes, that's right. That's a new development, since my brothers performed their little divinity reset experiment on me." He shakes his head, "I must say, that's one side effect I'm rather glad of... if this many people are going to be trying to kill me, _just_ when I've finally got a few reasons to stick around and try for some happiness."

"Yeah, how about we avoid that particular level of irony, hm?" Ella agrees, grinning. She finally decides she can't take the curiosity anymore. "What's going on in there?"

"She's taking on more responsibility for the actions of others than she should, of course," he scowls toward the door. "But honestly, I expected that of her. She's really mostly telling the truth, only leaving out that she saw my devil face and saying that she was in such a state after my murdering Pierce that Kinley was able to convince her that I truly _am_ the Devil... but that she came back to her senses once she returned and started working against him. It's brilliantly told, clearly she's learned quite a lot from me about framing the truth." He preens a little, as Ella snorts in amusement. "The best part is that Kinley's own journal will likely back up everything she's saying. She'll probably still be suspended until the inquiry is past, but I don't believe they'll fire her."

"I know she was worried about that, even though she didn't say so." Ella agrees. "What are you guys going to do about Dan?"

"I... truly don't know, Miss Lopez." He admits despondently. "Really, the only thing I believe you have him on is fleeing the scene of a crime, am I right? There's no other evidence of wrongdoing on his part aside from his little chat with Tiernan that got him fired? Recently, at least."

"Yeah, so far that's all we've got." Ella agrees. "I don't know how long it's going to take to send unis after him... hopefully they'll do it tonight. I know you're invulnerable and all, but... I'll feel better if we know what he's planning, or not planning, ya know?"

"Indeed, Miss Lopez," he glances at the door to the office again, pensive. "Especially since... if I'm the target... the Detective won't leave my side. And _she_ is most certainly not invulnerable."


	38. I Get That a Lot

Chloe leaves the office two hours after she enters it, ears ringing, badgeless, and weaponless.

 _It could have been so much worse,_ she thinks to herself. Honestly, it was probably made easier by the fact that Kinley’s journal had fully corroborated everything she’d told the Lieutenant, that she had been terrified, had been convinced reluctantly, agreed to help then backed out when she saw sense. That the priest had documented that she had actually prevented Lucifer from drinking the poison was another point in her favor, and she was finally dismissed with a curt, “Relax and pull yourself together. We’re too short-handed as it is. And send Morningstar in.”

She enters the lab in a daze, met by an anxious Ella and a happily smiling Lucifer.

“I’ll let you fill Miss Lopez in on the details, while I go speak with the Lieutenant, hm?”

“That’s fine.” She reaches out and catches his hand, holding him back for a moment. “Can you work with what I gave him?”

“You did marvelously, darling. We’ll be fine.” He leans in and lightly brushes his lips against her forehead, and then he’s gone, halfway across the bullpen and striding toward the boss’s office.

He raps on the door and slips inside at the brusque response.

“Hello Lieutenant, you wanted to see me?” He doesn’t turn up his charm for this man, he knows the type—doesn’t notice anything but competence.

“Mr. Morningstar.” The Lieutenant looks him over slowly, an intimidation tactic that Lucifer is entirely immune to. He stands relaxed, a politely interested smile on his face. “You seem to be at the center of a great many of my problems lately.”

“Oh, I assure you, not as many as mine.” The man surprises him and actually cracks a smile, gesturing to the chair across the desk. Lucifer sits, crossing his legs unconcernedly.

“Your partner was just here giving a confession of sorts,” he begins.

“Oh yes, I know all about that.” He leans back in his chair, lacing his fingers over his knee. “We hashed that out weeks ago.”

“And you’re still willing to continue not only as her partner, but I see you’ve recently filed the form for workplace interpersonal relationships as well?”

“Yes, well.” Lucifer smiles and straightens his cuffs. “We’ve been fighting it for years now, for both personal _and_ professional reasons. We talked it over and decided that continuing to fight it without giving it a proper chance was driving more wedges than not, so… we’re giving being happy a try instead.”

The Lieutenant leans back, lifting his eyebrows in surprise. “You are… not what I’d expected, Mr. Morningstar.”

“I get that a lot,” he deadpans, and the other man chuckles. “Now, what else did you need from me, Lieutenant?”

“I’ve suspended Detective Decker while this investigation into the Rivas/Kinley case is ongoing. Her cases are to be reassigned to other Detectives. I recall your… less than interested approach before Decker returned from her sabbatical—am I right in assuming you have no interest in consulting without her involvement?”

“There is a large amount of trust that goes into consulting, Lieutenant. Being partnered with an officer that doesn’t know me, doesn’t trust my judgement tends to hinder rather than help, I’m afraid.” Lucifer leans forward, his eyes intense. “Even in the beginning of my partnership with Detective Decker, she was open-minded enough to pursue leads if she could see the sense in my recommendations. Unfortunately, many officers do not share that quality, and I find it tiresome to offer advice and insights that I know will be ignored. Patience is not a virtue of mine.”

“It’s one that I’ve had to cultivate very carefully, so I understand that frustration.” He comments ruefully. “I appreciate your directness and honesty, and I understand your reluctance to undertake a temporary partnership during Decker’s suspension. Since your position is unpaid, I don’t need to officially suspend you, but you can consider yourself “off duty” until Decker is allowed to return.”

“Very well,” Lucifer smirks. “I’m sure I’ll be able to find other uses for my time. I do hope you can sort this out quickly, though, the Detective does live for the job.”

“I had noticed that from her personnel record,” the Lieutenant muses. “Maybe you can help her find some balance, hm?”

“Oh, I intend to try.”

“Dismissed,” he waves a hand at the door. “Try to stay out of trouble?”

“Oh, Lieutenant… where’s the fun in that?”

***************************

Chloe collects a few items from her desk while Lucifer meets with the Lieutenant, Ella looking on dejectedly.

“I’m going to miss you guys _so much_. I only just got you back!!”

“It’s only until the investigation is over, Ella,” Chloe soothes her. _And hopefully I won’t get arrested in the process_. “We’ll be back before you know it. You know what? We’re staying at the penthouse while we’re waiting to see what’s happening with Dan—why don’t you come over for dinner tonight? Linda and Amenadiel are keeping Trixie.”

“Really?” Ella perks up at the idea. “Are you sure I wouldn’t be in the way?”

“Ella, we _love_ you.” Chloe takes in the grin lighting the younger woman’s face. “We’re basically celestial sisters-in-law at this point, yeah? I know Lucifer thinks of you like his favorite little sister…”

“Indeed I do, Miss Lopez, and I’ve already told you as much, haven’t I?” Lucifer chimes in, appearing behind her at Chloe’s desk with a self-satisfied smile. “Of course you’re welcome to visit any time you like. Just.. for the Detective’s sense of decorum perhaps give us some warning first, hm?”

Chloe claps a hand over her eyes and groans as Lucifer winks at the tiny scientist.

“Okay, no problem,” she giggles. “So dinner tonight? Can we get Sol de Javier?”

“That sounds marvelous,” Lucifer agrees. “Around 7? And you can ask all the questions you like.”

“Ohmigosh, I’ll _be_ there! Holy crap, it’s nearly 4 now, I need to get busy!” She launches at him and wraps him in a hug. He doesn’t resist, and Chloe feels a little flicker of pride at how well he’s adjusted to accepting simple gestures of affection from his short list of approved humans. Ella trundles off back to her lab, and Chloe turns over her case notes to Detective Nicholson. They go over them together to cover any questions while Lucifer raids the break room vending machine for his fix of Cool Ranch Puffs and Teeny Tiny Donuts.

Chloe finds him there, tucking a hundred dollar bill into the empty coils of the Cool Ranch Puffs slot. She shakes her head in exasperation.

“You know when you do that, all someone has to do is put in $1.25 and they get that hundred dollar bill, right?”

“But Detective, the machine won’t take my money! You can’t truly expect me to carry _loose change_ , can you?” She dissolves into giggles at his expression of distaste.

“Lucifer… to you anything _less_ than a hundred-dollar bill is loose change.”

“And…?” Now his expression is puzzled.

“Nevermind,” she takes him in, standing there in his high-end three-piece suit, arms overflowing with cheap vending machine snacks and feels an upwelling of affection bloom in her chest. “Are you ready to go?”

“I’ve got my snacks, of course I’m ready.” A few bags topple from his arms, and Chloe dissolves into laughter. She scoops them up and rescues a few more from their precarious positions, then they bolt for the parking garage, giggling like a couple of kids who just raided the cookie jar.

***********************

 _Tonight. It has to be tonight._ Dan gazes at his wall, solidifying his plan. _I know I left prints behind at that house, they’ll probably come after me today, so I gotta get out of here and lay low until I know Lucifer’s gonna be at Lux. If Rivas has told them anything they’ll probably know that there’s a possibility someone else will be coming after Lucifer, and if they know that, then_ I _know Chloe won’t leave his side. It’ll be easy. Once he’s out of the picture, I’m sure she’ll see sense—Kinley got through to her once before, I’ll be able to do it again._

He checks the clip on his gun, all set to go. He slips out of his apartment and takes a drive out to the cemetery where Charlotte is buried. He spends a good part of the day there, talking to her, telling her what he’s learned and begging for some guidance. He confesses how terrified he is—for himself, for Chloe, for Trixie… for what he has to do next. Images whirl in his mind, Lucifer’s glowing red eyes, the burned patches of skin appearing on his face. He remembers his foray undercover with the man, to visit the ‘human lie detector’.

 _“I want someone dead.”_ The consultant had been fearless in the face of so much danger, well of course he was… he wasn’t actually _in_ any danger, was he?

_“Who?”_

_“Lucifer Morningstar.”_ For a man who doesn’t lie, there’s not a hitch of hesitation or doubt in his voice.

_“And what has this person done to deserve death?”_

_“Well, he hurts people. And not just his enemies, those close to him, as well. In fact, I think he hurts them most of all… Believe me, when I say, Boris, that the world would be a better place without him.”_ The ring of truth, and the absolute loathing in his voice had caused even Dan to look askance at him in consternation

_“I don't know how you lied to him like that.”_

_“Well, it's simple. I didn't lie.”_

_“Well... Well, then you have some serious issues, bro.”_

_“Obviously.”_ This last was said with the simplicity of one stating a blatant fact, that he considered himself so flawed that it should be evident to anyone around him.

It’s not what one would expect of the Devil, the embodiment of evil. Shouldn’t he have been reveling in the hurt caused, rather than so clearly reviling it? Dan shakes his head, gripping his hair and tugging it to distract himself from his conflicting thoughts.

 _“I only did it because you're everything that I'm not. Boring, helpful. Your life is simple.”_ That simple assessment had pissed him off, certain the man was making fun of him.

_“Oh. My life? Come on, man. You're rich. You're handsome. You drive fancy cars, you date hot girls. You have no kids, you have no responsibilities. How much more simple can life get?”_

_“Afraid you don't know the whole story.”_ Lucifer’s shoulders had been bowed, as though the weight of the world was heavy upon them.

_“Well, fine. Tell me.”_

_“You see, that's just it, Dan. The last person I opened up to, I hurt. A lot. Let alone how I've hurt my own flesh and blood. It's all I seem to be able to do.”_ The raw pain in his words had finally reached a place in Dan that he felt had been frozen for a long time. He had felt himself start to thaw toward the consultant, and they had shared a bonding moment.

He snorts to himself. A _bonding moment_ with Satan. Right. He mentally shakes himself again, determined not to fall into the same trap that clearly held Chloe. She may have been drawn in, but he could resist, and save everyone, even if it meant sacrificing himself.

He bides his time at the graveside, sending up prayers to the cloudless sky.

***********************

Chloe gets a text from Ella as they step off the lift into the penthouse.

**_Unis went to Dan’s apt—he wasn’t there, but there’s an empty wall and a metal trash can with a bunch of ashes in it. Be careful!_ **

Lucifer reads it over her shoulder. “Should we tell her not to come for dinner?”

Chloe’s phone chimes again.

**_Don’t even think of canceling dinner._ **

“Well, that’s that, I suppose. I’ll ring down to Patrick and advise him to intercept the Douche if he’s spotted trying to enter the club.” He moves to the bar, pouring himself a drink. He lifts an eyebrow at her in offer, and she wrinkles her nose, declining.

“Did we ever figure out how Kinley got in?” Chloe wonders out loud, glancing at the stairwell and in the direction of the service elevator.

“I had merely assumed he’d come in and hidden while I was showering in preparation for your arrival. I’ll have someone check the security tapes for that day… perhaps we can find out.” He scoffs. “Typically my dangers have been of the winged variety, I haven’t needed to worry about actual harm from humans before.”

“Until I shot you?” Her fingers rest on the malformed pendant that rests at the hollow of her throat once again.

“Until you shot me,” he agrees ruefully, as she crosses the room to hug him. “And what a surprise _that_ was.”

“You were definitely surprised,” she squeezes him tighter, and he chuckles into her hair. “And I felt _so bad_ about that.”

“Ah well, it healed up quickly enough.” He brushes it off, the way he always does any discussion of harm to his person. His free hand rubs her upper back, causing a frisson of electricity down her spine as it glides across her shoulders. “Now… we have just over _two hours_ before Miss Lopez arrives… what _shall_ we do with them?”

One hundred exhaustingly blissful minutes later, the new couple is sufficiently presentable for company. Lucifer places the order for delivery, and makes the call to Patrick about checking the security tapes for Kinley on the date of his poisoning, and restricting Dan’s access to the club—letting him know to alert authorities if he does arrive, and delay his departure if at all possible. He then settles on the couch next to his Detective, who leans against his chest. The humming current is still strong between them, resonating with their closeness and she closes her eyes to better concentrate on the warmth of the feeling.

“I have no idea what this… feeling is, with you,” she admits quietly. “But I _like it.”_

“Mmhm,” he agrees quietly, “It’s quite… relaxing really. It reminds me of starlight.”

“Starlight?” she looks up at his pensive face, brushing her fingers across his chest. “This—is what starlight feels like to you?”

“Well… yes,” he admits. “I made them, you see, so I’ve always had a bit of… affinity with them.”

“Lightbringer…” she murmurs, as a wistful smile appears on his lips.

“No one has called me that since Mum—” He turns his head to brush his lips against her temple and they sit in companionable silence for a long moment. Eventually, he stirs. “Well! Miss Lopez will be here in a moment. I’ll pop down the wine cellar and grab us a couple of bottles, shall I? Would you be so kind as to set out the dinnerware?”

*********************

Lucifer steps off the lift with bottles in hand, “I got a couple reds and a white—I know you’re partial to—oh. _Hello,_ Daniel, you’ve been difficult to get hold of lately, haven’t you?” He hears the elevator doors close behind him as Daniel approaches from the stairway, gun drawn and steady.

“I’m not here to talk,” Dan spits, and his voice wavers where his hand does not. “I’m here to save the freaking world, man.”

“Ooooh, good on you, Daniel,” Lucifer slowly places the bottles of wine on the bar and lifts his hands non-threateningly. “I’m afraid you’re working with some faulty information, if you’re going off what Kinley gave you, though…”

“Enough!” The shout is enough to draw Chloe’s attention from the kitchen, out of sight of the elevator. “Not another word, Serpent!”

“Oh now really, with the name-calling?” Lucifer taunts lightly, “Come now, Daniel, I thought we’d mostly evolved past that—”

Just then the doors open behind him again and he stiffens as he hears Miss Lopez’s voice ring out from the car behind him.

“Hey guys, I’m a little early, but I was just _so excited to—_ whoa, easy there!” Dan twitchily moves the gun and Lucifer unfurls his wings to protect the woman behind him just as Chloe appears in the hallway entrance, shouting,

“Dan?! What are you doing!”

 _“Whoa!”_ Dan pinwheels backwards as Lucifer’s wings spring into existence, his finger tightening on the trigger and the deafening report of the pistol going off as he flails backward.

Lucifer doesn’t feel a bullet and checks Ella behind him, unharmed, but wide-eyed. His eyes fly to Chloe, who stands in the entrance to the hallway, hand clapped over her stomach above her navel. Her eyes flicker from Dan sprawled on the floor to Lucifer, standing stricken with spread wings.

 _“Ow,”_ The exhalation is nearly inaudible, and Lucifer is thrown back to Trixie’s wound after his last unwelcome guest. Chloe staggers back against the wall and slides down, and Lucifer watches in transfixed horror as a smear of blood blooms on the wall in her wake. In a flash of movement he’s at her side, hand pressed over the copiously bleeding wound to staunch the blood as Chloe looks up at him weakly. “I’m… sorry,” she breathes.

“No you’re not,” he snaps worriedly, “You’re going to be fine.” He looks at the wound, it's in precisely the same place that Malcolm had shot him in that hangar, and he'd bled out in minutes.

Daniel is still on the floor, gaping in silent panic.

“Miss Lopez, you’ll find some handcuffs in the small carved box on my table in front of the couch, would you kindly place them on Daniel?” His words tensely bleed together as he lifts Chloe in his arms in a swift movement. “She needs immediate medical attention.” His eyes flare red as he glares at the man sprawled at his feet. _“Daniel_ ,” his voice deepens by an octave and gains an otherworldly timbre as Ella scrambles for the cuffs. “You’re not going to cause any trouble for Miss Lopez while you’re waiting for the police to arrive, now _are you?”_

The terrified man shakes his head mutely. Lucifer waits only long enough for Ella to snap the cuffs in place before disappearing in a whirl of gleaming feathers. Ella swears in Spanish as she calls in the incident, leveling a deadly glare at Dan the entire time. She settles in to anxiously await their arrival, jumping when the dinner delivery arrives. She takes the food and puts it away for later, keeping only the chips and salsa to give her hands something to do _other_ than strangle the man staring brokenly at the floor in front of him.

 _Lucifer won't let anything happen to Chloe._ She reassures herself. _She'll be fine._


	39. We Really Need to Stop Meeting Like This.

_Wings. How is it that Devil has giant, shiny white angel’s wings?_ Dan’s thoughts circle around and around in his head until he’s dizzy. He’s glad he’s already slumped on the floor. Is he going to throw up? He feels like he needs to throw up. He bends over and spits up a thin yellow thread of bile, and feels a little better.

A sound of disgust comes from across the room and pulls his focus out, reminding him he’s not alone in the room. His eyes cast about to find Ella seated at the bar, glaring at him with revulsion as she absently plows her way through a bag of chips and salsa.

“Ella?” He remembers seeing her step out of the elevator, just before _they_ filled his entire field of vision.

“I’m not speaking to you, _cabrón_.” He flinches at the animosity in her tone. “What were you thinking?? _Were_ you thinking? Because I’m not sure you were.”

“He’s _the Devil!_ ” Dan shouts at her.

“He’s our _friend, estúpido!”_ She shouts right back, “And you were, what, going to kill him for existing?”

“Yes!” Dan sobs, “I’ve seen his face, what he is. He shouldn’t _be_ here, he’s _evil_ , Ella!”

“He’s not,” she replies calmly. “And the proof of that sits right where you’re sitting, you moron. If he _were_ evil, do you think he would have let you live after what you did? If he were evil, would he have been working right beside all of us… _for years_ … to put murderers in jail? If he were _evil_ , would he have paid the lawyer that kept _you_ out of jail for your part in the Palmetto debacle?” She lifts a brow at his incredulous look. “Oh yeah, I heard all about that. Not to mention… would you still be alive after sending Tiernan after him… for something that _wasn’t even his fault??”_

Dan stares at her in hopeless silence, tears leaking down his face.

“I’d love to believe those are tears of remorse, Dan, but I think they’re more likely to be tears of self-pity. We were all on your side, you know—through your grief for Charlotte. Even Lucifer hoped you would get some help and find some peace, after all the _shit_ you piled on him. No more, Dan. You’ve gone so far past the line that you can’t even see it anymore. And you better hope Chloe’s okay, because whatever happens to you here, won’t compare to what _he’ll_ have in store for you after it’s over.”

********************

Chloe slips from consciousness as he bolts with her through the automatic doors of the emergency room, leaving a trail of blood in their wake. A gurney appears, and they wheel her away, barking at one another about blood volume and heart rate and GSWs. He stands, watching as the doors seal her away from him. He whirls when he feels a soft touch at his elbow.

"Now then, darlin'," the tiny older woman at his side doesn't flinch at his sudden movement. "They'll do what they do best, and I'll do _my_ best to keep you from frettin' too much by distracting you with all this lovely paperwork."

"I'm afraid you vastly underestimate my unique ability to multitask," he replies listlessly.

"C'mon then, honey," her soft Southern drawl settles easily on his ears, and she pats his forearm sympathetically. "Let's get this started, and it'll at least pass some time."

The paperwork doesn't take _nearly_ enough time to complete (which is something he never thought he would consider) and he finds himself fretting, at loose ends far too soon. He pulls out his phone and texts Miss Lopez, letting her know that there's no update yet, and asking that if she was planning to come to the hospital could she bring Chloe's wallet for her insurance information. Not that she strictly needs it, _naturally_ he'll be covering her expenses.

_**Of course I'm coming to the hospital, you big lug. Unis just arrived, it might be awhile though. Thanks for the update.** _

She doesn't ask how he's doing. He knows that _she_ knows he's not doing well. He considers texting his brother, as he's watching over the Detective's offspring... but instead he calls Linda.

"Hello, Lucifer?"

"Hello, Doctor," his voice is small, and though he tries, he can't hide the trembling. He hears rustling and movement, then Linda's voice rings clear across the line again.

"What's happened? Are you all right?" Her tone is urgent, concerned.

"Is the Detective's Offspring in earshot?"

"No, I switched rooms once I heard your voice. What's _happened?"_

"I... Daniel came to Lux tonight with a gun," he begins softly. "I was the only one in the room at first, so I wasn't concerned, but then he shouted and Chloe heard him, and Miss Lopez stepped from the lift behind me then the Detective appeared in the hallway entrance... I unfurled my wings to protect Miss Lopez because Daniel was waving his gun around, and he startled, and fell back and the gun..."

"Who was hurt?" Linda's voice breaks through his bubbling panic. _"Lucifer._ Who was hurt?"

 _"Chloe_ ," he breathes, "She was shot in the gut, Doctor, and when I was shot just there, I died in _minutes!"_ He's nearly wailing now, and getting odd looks from other people in the room. He pulls in a deep breath and presses his lips together to stop the torrent of words.

"Is anyone there with you?"

"No," he whispers lifelessly. "Miss Lopez stayed at Lux to await the authorities. She'll be by later."

"Was anyone else hurt?"

"If you mean, did _I_ hurt anyone," he snarls, "then the answer is _no_ , though I was sorely tempted to do so. And Miss Lopez was unharmed."

"I'm coming to you Lucifer, are you at Cedars-Sinai?" he hears more rustling, presumably the good Doctor getting ready to travel.

"Yes," he murmurs, his voice breaking. "Please don't tell the Urchin yet. I-- I want Chloe to be there when she learns what happened."

"See you in twenty."

"Thank you, Linda." The call disconnects and he leans back in his seat, the back of his head thudding dully against the wall behind him. He precariously maintains control of the panic bubbling under the calm surface by focusing on that warm sensation just behind his sternum, the one he first felt last night with Chloe. It's still there, that light thrumming-- like a hummingbird's wings in his chest-- and he holds tightly to it. If he loses it now... he can't even think about it.

"Mr. Decker?"

"Yes?" His head pops up at the name, and he scrambles to correct himself, "Er, no. Morningstar. Lucifer. Chloe Decker, she's my... she's--"

"Ah, of course, Mr. Morningstar." The nurse checks the papers in her hand. "I see you're Ms. Decker's emergency contact, with a second contact of Daniel Espinoza." Lucifer snarls, and the woman takes an involuntary step back, eyes wide.

"My apologies," he replies stiffly, calming himself with monumental effort. "It's only that... Daniel is the reason she was bleeding to death when we arrived, so... I'm a bit upset with him at the moment."

"Right..." She watches him warily, but when he makes no further sudden moves, she relaxes a little.

"How is she?" He croaks. _"Please,_ how is she?"

"The bullet went clear through, so we didn't have to remove it-- but it damaged the hepatic artery. It's a good thing you were nearby when she was shot." Lucifer doesn't correct her on their distance, but nods encouragingly for her to continue. "They've got her in surgery now to repair the damage-- do you know if she's had a wound there before?"

"Not to my knowledge," he answers slowly. "Why do you ask?"

"The surgeon was commenting on some granulation tissue throughout the wound, but it looked fairly fresh."

Lucifer feels the ball of ice that had nested in his gut when Chloe slid down his wall slowly start to melt. Her actualized healing was taking effect. He closes his eyes in relief as the nurse continues to speak. 

"Once she's done with surgery and through recovery, we'll be able to allow you into her room to visit. She probably won't be awake, but--"

"But I'd just as soon be there as not, yes." He nods eagerly. "Thank you darling, I would appreciate that."

"She's really lucky to have someone like you that cares about her," the nurse comments warmly. "We'll keep you informed."

"I promise you, _I_ am the lucky one in this situation," he murmurs as she walks away. He collapses back into his chair and waits impatiently, concentrating fiercely on that feeling of connection with Chloe. He pulls out his phone to send Miss Lopez an update, but receives no response. She's either still with the police, or is on her way to the hospital. A few minutes later, Linda bustles through the automatic doors, finding him immediately and hurrying over.

"You've had an update," she observes, taking in his blood-soaked shirt, but semi-relaxed posture.

"I have," he replies, snapping his eyes open to look at her. She drops onto the bench next to him and watches expectantly. "She's in surgery, the bullet went all the way through, but it damaged an artery. She's lost a lot of blood, but they're working on fixing it."

"And you're not panicked because...?"

"Because the nurse asked me if she'd been wounded there recently-- the surgeon was seeing signs of healing." He beams at his friend, who just looks confused. "My... her...divinity is _healing her_ , Doctor! She's going to be fine!"

"Lucifer, that's _wonderful!"_ she breathes a sigh of relief, then sobers again quickly. "What's going to happen to Dan?"

He growls, and the sound raises the little hairs on the back of her neck. "Miss Lopez said the officers had arrived when I texted her just before I called you. She didn't answer the second time, when I sent her the update, so I don't know if she's en route, or if she was still with the police..." 

Just then the automatic doors sweep open and admit Detective Nicholson and Ella. Lucifer stands and Ella spots them, dragging the Detective over.

"I got your update!" She wraps him in a hug, and he's still shaky enough that he's thankful for it's steadying effect. "Thank you for getting her here so quickly! Since we've nothing to do but wait, Detective Nicholson has some questions for you?"

"Of course," Lucifer replies, mentally stroking that thrumming ball of light in his chest and drawing calm from its presence. "Both of these women have my complete confidence, Detective, we can speak freely in front of them if you like." Ella beams at the compliment, and Linda reaches over and places a supportive hand on his arm.

"All right," the Detective agrees easily enough. "Ella has already given me her version of events, do you mind walking me through?"

"Detective Decker and I were expecting Miss Lopez for dinner, so Chloe had gone to kitchen to ready the flatware, and I had popped down to the wine cellar to choose some vintages. When I stepped off the lift, Daniel confronted me with his gun, spouting something about saving the world."

"And why would he think that shooting you would save the world?"

"Why, because I'm the devil, of course," Lucifer replies matter-of-factly.

"Ah, right. The name." Nicholson makes a note in her book.

"Yes. Daniel had gotten wrapped up with that priest that tried to kill me a few weeks ago and his associate that we arrested yesterday-- I believe you're now handling that case, yes?-- and had apparently decided the burden of ridding the world of evil me had fallen to him."

"How very... noble."

"Indeed," Lucifer agrees dryly. "I wasn't overly worried until my elevator deposited Miss Lopez directly behind me and the Detective heard Daniel shouting at me and appeared across the room. I stepped in front of Miss Lopez to protect her, and Daniel was startled by my sudden movement- he fell backward flailing, and the gun went off, hitting the Detective in the gut-- the liver, according the nurse that's been updating me."

Nicholson glances toward the bay doors. "And how is Detective Decker?"

"She's in surgery now-- the bullet went through-- I assume you found it in my wall? The nurse said it hit an artery and the Detective, well," he gestures at his shirt and trousers. "She's lost a _lot_ of blood. They promised to keep us updated."

"Well, your story matches up with Ella's, not that I doubted either of you." Nicholson lets a disgusted look cross her face. "Espinoza's not even trying to come up with an excuse, not that he would be able to. He's been off the rails for awhile now if you ask me, but I know he was your friend, or something like it at one point. I'm sorry this happened, Mr. Morningstar, but we're gonna make sure this sticks."

"Thank you, Detective Nicholson, I appreciate your diligence, and I know the Detective will as well."

The nurse comes back into the waiting room and everything fades into the background as she urgently calls, "Mr. Morningstar?"

********************

The pain drives the breath from her body as the bullet hammers through her. Her hand claps over the gushing warmth on her belly and she stands, only because she hasn’t yet unbalanced to fall. She feels an echoing flood of warmth down her back, and a detached part of her mind realizes that the bullet has gone completely through. She looks first at the shooter, Dan, his face contorted into a caricature of dismay as he realizes exactly what he’s done. Dismissing him as unimportant, she finds her North Star, her point of orientation, her Morningstar... her _Lightbringer_. His dark eyes are wide with horror, his expression slack with shock, and when she blinks, he’s next to her, pressing his large hand over her smaller one, helping to hold her lifeblood inside. The edges of her vision have gone fuzzy. _Is this what he felt like when I was hovering over him, when he had that axe in his chest?_

“I’m sorry,” she gasps out and he snaps a response, but her ears aren’t working properly and all she can hear is the worry. Her eyes don’t want to leave his face, and that’s okay because she doesn’t think she can move them away anyway. Then she’s flying, no… being lifted. Lifted and held against that now-familiar warm body, so full of strength and tenderness. He speaks again and while the words still escape her, the tone now is fury and heat. His eyes glow red and that comforts her, makes them easier for her fading vision to pick up. A blurring of her surroundings, and Chloe finds herself alone again in a now-familiar blank white nothingness.

Her mind is clear again, free of the stabbing pain in her gut. She looks down, no wound or blood on her clothing. She sighs to herself, and sits down to wait. As a single mother, it’s rare that she gets quiet time to herself… and if she weren’t so worried about what was happening to her _out there_ , what Lucifer was going through on her behalf, she might be able to enjoy it. As it stands, it’s all she can do sit calmly.

“We really need to stop meeting like this, My child.” The familiar voice rolls over her, warm as melted chocolate and just as smooth.

“Hello, God. I couldn’t agree more.” She glances over her shoulder at the familiar face, complete with silvering beard and trustworthy smile. “So if I could just be on my way?”

“Now, not just yet. Your body has some healing to go through, and you’re far better off being here for it than there. Besides, I thought you had more questions for Me?” He sits cross-legged next to her, leaning forward so his elbows rest casually on his knees.

“But I _will_ be going back to my body?” She asks pointedly.

“If that is your Will, so it shall be, Chloe Decker.” He replies mildly. “You hold within you no small amount of My son’s divinity, and he carries a spark of My own Will. I told you before, if you choose to be immortal, to stay with him, it will be so.”

“You did,” she agrees, “you just forgot to mention exactly how to make anything like that happen. I nearly got burned to a crisp in the magma seas of Hell trying to bring your son back to Earth.”

“Lucifer would never let that happen to you,” he leans back, satisfied. “I’ve never seen My son so happy as he’s been these past few days… excepting right this moment, of course, but that will pass once you are back with him.”

She makes the quick decision that it’s not worth wasting her time arguing with God. “I did have a question for you, since I’ve got the chance…”

“Ah! Good, yes—do go on.”

“You said last time, that Lucifer’s banishment was never meant to be permanent.” He nods in encouragement. “Did you mean his banishment to Hell? Or his banishment _from_ Heaven? Is he allowed to come back?”

“Ahh, that is a good question. It was a clever thought of his not to merely test it, too.” God sighs. “My children are somewhat headstrong.” Chloe snorts. Just from the few she’s met she knows that’s a God-level understatement. “The short answer is, Lucifer _will_ be able to come back, eventually. I would not raise a hand against him if he were to come back now, but his siblings… it may take an edict from Me to make them stand down. They have decided that he is the Enemy, and will not believe otherwise.”

“Arael seemed reasonable, and Azrael. Maybe they can help you.”

“Azrael has always had a special place in her heart for Lucifer, as she has with him. They are truly kindred spirits. I will take your opinion on Arael under advisement, and consult with them both on how to proceed. I don’t _like_ making pronouncements to My children unless absolutely necessary.”

“If it came down to it, to preserve Lucifer’s safety, _would_ you?”

“I would not allow Lucifer to die due to inaction on my part,” he assures her solemnly, and she feels marginally better that at least Lucifer’s father won’t just stand idly by if a word from him would save him.

“But you didn’t step in to save Uriel’s life.”

“Uriel…” A flicker of pain crosses his face, and he lowers his head in grief. “Uriel chose his own fate—he chose to act maliciously, not only against his brother, but against you and his mother. And he claimed it was all in My service. He exercised his free will, and like many, many humans before him, he paid the price for it.”

“And Lucifer has to bear the burden of that price.”

“Lucifer also exercised his free will… but he did so in _defense_ of his mother… and of you, and his Mazikeen. He bears the burden of his choice, but the burden he chooses to carry is less heavy than the one he would bear if he had chosen differently.”

Chloe tries for a moment to grasp the level of grief Lucifer would have experienced if he’d lost his mother, Maze, and her… and finds that it hurts too much to contemplate. She knows Lucifer made the right choice.

“Do you know anything about this connection between us?” She holds her hand over her sternum, where she can still feel her light trembling faintly.

“Oh! Can you feel it already?” His face lights up with happiness “The Link?”

“If that’s what we’re calling it,” Chloe replies suspiciously. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing that would have come into play if both of you didn’t truly want it.” He assures her blithely. “It’s merely an affirmation that the two of you have found and chosen one another. Humans have a term for it… Soulmates, I think.”

“Soulmates.” Her tone is skeptical.

“It doesn’t mean what most humans think,” God chuckles. “It’s nothing to do with predestination or any nonsense like that—as you know, you two alone have determined what you would be to one another. In fact, the only reason _your_ link is behaving this way—with that slightly more-than-physical reminder, is that you two now share divinity. It responds to itself in each of you, it resonates—creating that not-quite-feeling within you. It’s not unpleasant--?”

“No!” She denies immediately, “No, it’s… I like it, it reminds me of him.”

“He’s holding tightly to his end right now as he waits for you to return to him… it reminds him of you as well.” God informs her gently. The brightness flickers suddenly, and they both look around. “Our time here is ending, Chloe. I’m glad you’ve chosen to remain by My son’s side… and that you’ve managed to help him _choose_ to be happy.”

“And you’ll do something about letting your other children know about their own free will, and letting Lucifer visit Heaven?”

God grins at her in pride as the brightness fades into darkness, and she sleeps.

*******************

“Mr. Morningstar?”

“Yes?” He’s up and across the room before the nurse finishes his name.

“Sir, could you come with me, please?”

“Of course, what’s happening?” They start walking immediately, leaving Linda and Ella glancing at each other nervously in the waiting area.

“Ms. Decker is in recovery and she’s waking faster than we anticipated.” The nurse’s voice is terse, her steps just shy of running. “She’s agitated and keeps mumbling your name—she sounds so upset. We don’t want to take the risk of sedating her again so soon, so we’re hoping maybe if she hears your voice—”

“Ah, yes of course, I’m happy to try.” _Anything._ They enter a small grey room with a single bed and lots of equipment, surrounded by hospital personnel. The tiny figure in the bed is tossing restlessly as they try to limit her movement. He’s at her side in a heartbeat, smoothly insinuating himself between two of the attendants and taking Chloe’s hand.

“Shhh, darling, you’re quite all right,” he murmurs, pressing her palm to his lips. His other hand smooths her brow, and the worry-lines disappear at his touch. He feels the sensation of flaring light beneath his ribs, and sighs in relief. “You’ll be fine, Detective, you’re already healing and you’ll be back at home scolding your Urchin and me in no time.”

Her thrashing slowly stills, and she takes a deep breath, settling into true sleep as he continues to whisper to her. The attendants step back, glancing at one another in shock. One by one, they leave the room. Only one remaining behind to monitor vitals on the patient and witness the unwavering devotion of the man beside her.


	40. That's Not Okay.

First, pain. A red-hot railroad spike in her stomach, flaring with every heartbeat as though it were still being pounded in by John Henry himself. She moans in agony and a beloved voice murmurs above her. Another answers, and then a blissful coolness trickles from her elbow to the rest of her body and she sinks back into tranquil darkness.

Next, sound. Beeps, whirs, clicks, hisses surround her constantly. Movement. People bustling around her, poking, prodding. One constant, still presence next to her at all times, humming, singing, or speaking—making itself known and bringing her peace. There’s a familiar hand in hers. _How do I already know this hand so well?_ She wonders disconnectedly. But she _does_. She knows it as though it’s her own, its long fingers wrapped warmly around her own chilled ones. She squeezes, just the faintest twitch of pressure in her half-awake state, and the humming stops, immediately replaced by a tentative, “Detective?” She can’t respond beyond another faint twitch of her fingers, and so the humming starts again. She lets it carry her off again.

Light. Her eyes feel gummy as her lids crack open, but she wins the internal battle. She blinks several times until her eyes clear, trying to figure out what’s obscuring her vision. She blinks once more and realizes a head of riotous black curls is resting just a few inches away from her face, she had obviously turned toward it in her sleep. A small smile graces her cracked lips, and her gaze travels further down. She can see that his face is nearly resting on her shoulder, puffing warmth from small, even breaths across her hospital gown. She carefully moves to close those inches, suddenly unable to rest until her lips press against his forehead. She lingers there, breathing in his comforting scent, and she feels the instant he wakes.

His head snaps back, red-rimmed mahogany eyes meeting her bleary ocean-blues in an expression of raw hope.

“Detective?” He whispers, as though he’s afraid he’s dreaming.

“Hey,” she croaks, swallows. “Lucifer. Hi.”

“Hi,” he exhales and a grin spreads across his face, bringing new life to his eyes. Her hand tightens on his.

“How long was I out?”

“Three…” Her eyebrow lifts, and his grin widens. “days. It’s Friday afternoon. Your offspring was starting to get antsy when she hadn’t spoken with you, so I finally had to tell her something.”

“What _did_ you tell her?” Chloe wonders.

“I made sure Linda was there with her, for support you know, since I wasn’t about to leave you.” He looks offended at the mere _idea_ of it. “I told her you’d been wounded and were sleeping so you could heal properly. Then we did a video call and she watched you snoring for five minutes before he professed herself satisfied that I was caring for you properly.” He smirks at the idea of being judged by an elementary schooler, then continues, “I haven’t told her anything about Daniel’s involvement. I… thought it best that you be present and preferably leading that discussion, darling.”

“We have to tell her the truth,” Chloe knows he won’t argue with her on that—but also knows that he’s just as reluctant to hurt her daughter as she is. And this is going to hurt her—badly.

“I know,” he sighs heavily, gently resting his fingers on her cheek. “I wish the truth could be more pleasant for her, for you both, but…”

“It is what it is, yes.” She leans into his touch “So, how am I, really?”

“You’re healing at a remarkable rate for a human. Slowly, by celestial standards, but you’re not a celestial, so I suppose that’s to be expected. If the bullet wound had been the only issue, you would have been out of here by now.”

“What other issues?”

“Blood loss,” he says simply. “The damn thing nicked an artery and you nearly bled out before even I could get you here. Fortunately, when they asked and I told them I flew you here, they just assumed I had a helicopter at my beck and call.”

She laughs softly and feels a tugging pressure in her gut. She presses her hand over it, feeling a thick pad under her gown. He notices her feeling the padding.

“Just a precaution, love. The outer wound is nearly healed. The insides are taking a bit of time, and your blood volume is replenishing nicely. I’ve started telling the nurses you were merely sleeping to pass the time until you could get back to work again.” His tone is light, but she can see the worry lines still creasing his face. She reaches up and places her palm against his heavily-stubbled cheek, he turns his head and nuzzles into it and she feels the now-familiar flare of warmth in her chest.

“I talked to your dad,” she admits softly. His head snaps up, eyes wide as the color drains from his face. “No!” she’s quick to correct the assumption he’s made, “No, not like… not like I saw him in Heaven or anything. Just… it was like after your treatment, just a big white nothing, and me and him having a little chat.”

“How cozy,” he snarks, but the bite isn’t aimed at her.

“I asked him about your banishment from Heaven,” she offers hesitantly.

“Oh, darling, you really need to learn to use your three wishes more wisely.”

“I think I got everything I needed,” she huffs a careful laugh at the idea of God as an all-powerful, information-granting genie. Her eyes drift closed for a moment, but she fights them open again. “He said technically, you’re no longer banished… but he has to figure out a way to roll it out to your siblings, who mostly seem to have the same mentality as Raphael. So he says he’s going to consult with Arael and Azrael on the best way to approach them so he doesn’t have to mess with their free will by issuing an edict.”

“So, perhaps I can visit you and the Urchin in a few hundred years.” He sounds disappointed but hopeful, as though as long as there _is_ light at the end of that tunnel, he’s willing to walk it, no matter the length.

“I also asked him about… this.” Her fingers brush against the wrinkled fabric covering the center of his chest, spreading across the area where her own light resides. “Our Link.”

“Is that what he called it?”

“Mmhm,” she confirms lazily. “He said it wouldn’t have developed if we both didn’t want it… if we hadn’t chosen each other.”

“So what is it, then?” he asks softly, his free hand gently stroking her hair away from her face.

“It’s… you.” His eyebrow lifts and she struggles to explain through the fog threatening to drag her back under. “Your divinity, recognizing itself—in you, in me, he said it resonates with itself, and that’s why we can feel it the way we do.”

“Like a narcissist in a mirror,” he huffs a reluctant laugh. “Well, I suppose that’s apt for something that comes from me. Well, love, at least it’s not—” he drifts off, seeing that she’s asleep again. Her fingers are still loosely laced with his, and he continues to smooth her hair—if it soothes him as much as (or more than) it soothes her, well. No one needs to know about that.

***********************

Ella drops by that evening, as she has every night after work, and nearly has an adorability-induced breakdown when she finds them both asleep, hands entwined, Lucifer bent over in the chair with his head resting near Chloe’s. She sits quietly, trying to arrange the bags that she’d brought full of dinner without waking anyone, but Lucifer’s hearing is too acute. He snaps to wakefulness with the wariness of a protective lioness, relaxing when he sees who it is in the room with him. Ella feels a little thrill of affection for him, to be so trusted by such a being.

“Hey bud,” she greets him quietly, nodding toward the bags. “Dinner is served, I got us that Chinese place we all liked.”

He glances at the figure in the bed, then hungrily at the bags before reluctantly disentangling his fingers from hers and moving over to the thinly-padded sofa to sit with her.

“Thank you Miss Lopez, did I already pay you for this?” He digs into the bags immediately, pulling out chopsticks and containers, supplying her with one of each before taking some for himself.

“Dude, you paid me enough for like 3 weeks’ worth of Chinese food. I’ve got so much change for you.” He waves her off, and she giggles. “Any new developments?”

“She woke up this afternoon,” he grins at Ella’s quickly suppressed whoop of joy, and glances back at the bed hopefully. “She was lucid, though tired. We had a little conversation before she dropped back off to sleep. I don’t think we’ll disturb her if we keep conversation to normal noise levels. Her color has been improving steadily today, and when they came in a couple hours ago to change her dressings, they were able to leave the bandages off—the outer wounds have nearly healed, and she only seemed to feel some minor discomfort when she laughed a little too hard.”

Ella sighs in relief and digs into her dinner with gusto, Lucifer following suit. He maneuvers his chopsticks with ease, and she wonders for a moment if there’s _any_ skill left that he hasn’t tried.

“So, when did you learn to use these?” She holds up her chopsticks, making a pinching motion with them and he laughs.

“Oh, ages and ages ago,” he replies cheerfully. “You know, they weren’t always used for eating—they started off as just cooking utensils, good for getting right down to the bottom of the pot.”

This starts a meandering conversation on the evolution of customs from his (admittedly spotty) point of view. He’s in the middle of lamenting the loss of a particular spice that doesn’t have an English name because the plant it was made from was wiped out when Ella glances over at the bed and finds Chloe watching them with a fond smile on her face.

“Decker!” She leaps up and flies to the bed, leaning over to gently hug her friend. “Lucifer said you’d been awake, how ya feeling, _chica?”_

“Better,” she croaks, working her tongue against the roof of her dry mouth. Ella reaches for the cup of water on her bedside table and Chloe gratefully takes the offered sip. “I was enjoying watching the two of you. Y’know, just being happy.”

“Yeah, one of these days we’ll be able to sit down and have a meal when one of us _isn’t_ recovering from some terrible illness and/or injury,” Ella drawls. “Are you hungry?”

“You know, I think I could—” Lucifer is already at her side with a carton of her favorite chicken with garlic sauce and a fork. “You know, I can handle chopsticks?”

“Ah, but we’ve only the two sets…” Chloe pouts, and he hands over his set, snatching her fork back with a decent imitation of a long-suffering sigh... if you ignore the pleased grin creasing his face. He stabs at her carton in retaliation and comes away with a forkful of deliciousness, and Chloe carefully guards the rest of her hoard from further incursions. The conversation stays light, and Ella’s eyes shine as she watches the easy interactions between her two best friends throughout the evening.

They’re finishing dinner when the nurses come in for the change of shift rounds. One of the nurses recognizes them both from Lucifer’s stay a few short weeks ago and exclaims at his vast improvement, teasing that they really need to find a safer line of work if this is how they’re going to be spending their time.

“I can promise that the past couple of months have been… rather extraordinary conditions, Tamara,” Lucifer laughs. “With any luck at all, things will start settling back to something resembling normal for all of us. Assuming this one can stay out of trouble, that is." This last was said with an obvious nod toward Chloe, who gapes in mock offense.

“The truth is _neither one_ of them can keep out of trouble,” Ella confides, to the nurses’ amusement. “I’m the only reasonable one in the group.”

Lucifer and Chloe exchange a glance, and he shrugs. “That’s… probably true.”

Ella flings a fortune cookie at him and he snatches it effortlessly from the air, offering it politely to Chloe. He gives his best puppy eyes to Ella, who obligingly tosses him another for himself.

The nurses finish their update, noting that the doctor would be in shortly, and the three break into their cookies and devour them before sharing their fortunes.

“Awwww,” Ella exclaims, “Mine says ‘You always bring others happiness.’”

“Well, at least your is accurate, Miss Lopez,” Lucifer scoffs. “Mine is 'The saints are the sinners who keep trying.' That garners a round of good-natured laughter, but Chloe can see the truth of it for him. She reads hers and bursts out laughing, thankfully without the accompanying tug of pain that she’d had earlier in the day. The others clamor to know what’s funny, so she shares:

“You are in good hands this evening.” It takes her a while to stop laughing long enough to explain why she finds it so funny.

The doctor arrives just as Ella prepares to leave for the evening, and she tries not to look too hopeful to be allowed to stay and get the update. Chloe laughs at her terrible attempt at a poker face and introduces her as her “sister”, and Ella’s chest fills with warmth.

The doctor gently probes at Chloe’s abdomen and gauges her pain, noting that the wounds have nearly healed, with minimal bruising left around the scar.

“I’ve never seen anyone heal so quickly,” the doctor marvels. “I hope your case doesn’t get out, because we had a similar instance of a near-miraculous healing just a few weeks ago in this same ward!”

“Heh,” Ella breaks in, “Maybe it’s the cafeteria jello, hm?”

“Well, Ms. Decker, so long as you’re feeling well, and promise to take it easy for the next few weeks, I don’t see any reason why we couldn’t release you in the morning. I’d like to keep you one more night, just for my own peace of mind.”

************************

The next morning finds them knocking at Linda’s door, Lucifer trying his best not to be too obvious about his protective hovering, and failing miserably. Chloe is torn between amusement and exasperation, but she remembers how irritated _he_ was at _her_ hovering, and amusement wins.

“I’m really okay,” she murmurs to him as he stands close behind her.

“Yes, of course you are,” he shifts anxiously, not moving away. The thundering of feet on the other side of the door is their only warning as it’s flung open with a desperate cry of _“MOMMY!”_ as Trixie launches herself at her mother. Chloe’s balance isn’t strong enough for the onslaught and both of them topple back into Lucifer’s solid chest. He catches them easily, winding up entangled in their embrace in his attempts to keep everyone on their feet. He finds himself grateful that Trixie’s tear-streaked face is buried in the Detective’s midriff rather than his own.

“I’m okay,” Chloe murmurs into her hair, over and over again. “It’s okay, baby.”

“Oh, Father… you three are _adorable_.” Lucifer glares at his brother, now leaning casually against the doorframe with a small smile on his face. “How are you feeling, Chloe?”

“Better,” she smiles over her sobbing daughter’s head, tears sparkling on her own lashes. “Thank you for keeping her. Is Linda--?”

“She went into the office to finish some notes. And you’re very welcome. Trixie is an amazing child, Chloe, you’re very lucky to have her.”

“I know I am.” Her arms wrap tighter around the slim shoulders pressed against her midsection. She forces her voice into a cheery tone. “Ready to go home, Trixella?”

The ride home is largely silent, with an occasional sniffle from the child. When the reach the apartment Lucifer shoulders Trixie’s backpack and hurries to open the back door for Chloe to crawl out with Trixie. They make it into the apartment and Chloe collapses onto the sofa with a deliberately exaggerated groan, hoping to make Trixie giggle. Instead, the girl sits cross-legged next to her, solemn-faced.

“Something bad happened,” she says sadly, “and Dr. Linda and Amenadiel didn’t want to tell me what it was.”

“You’re right,” Chloe admits readily. “Something bad did happen, besides me getting hurt.”

“It’s Daddy, isn’t it?” Her wide, brown eyes fill with tears again, and they spill freely down her cheeks. “That’s why I didn’t go stay with him while you were getting better.”

“I do need to talk to you about your dad, sweetie.” Chloe keeps her gaze locked on her daughter’s face, while Lucifer stands helplessly on the opposite side of the room, sure that neither of them want him anywhere near them. “You remember when we went to Rome, and I was talking to a priest there.”

“The one that wanted you to hurt Lucifer.” Trixie’s eyes flicker to her friend and she frowns at the distance he’s placed between them. The devil shifts uncomfortably, but doesn’t move.

“Yeah, baby, that one.” She swallows, her throat suddenly dry. Lucifer takes the opportunity to busy himself getting drinks for everyone, but it doesn’t keep him away long enough to miss any of the conversation. “Your dad went to talk to him, and… he kind of.. um.” Chloe looks up at Lucifer, eyes begging for help.

“Beatrice?” Lucifer speaks softly for the first time since they’ve picked her up. “Your father learned the truth about me, and… as most people do, he didn’t take it well. He wanted to… to make sure you and your mother and _everyone_ else were safe from me, so he came to my flat to, er, send me away.”

“Daddy tried to hurt you again?” Trixie’s tone is indignant, and Lucifer looks at her, confused at her reaction.

“Urchin, it’s really my fault, he saw my—”

 _“NO!_ ” the child shouts, jumping and stamping her foot.

“Trixie—” Chloe tries to intervene, but Trixie is on a roll and will not be stopped.

“ _No, Lucifer!”_ She shouts again, “You always say that _you’re_ not responsible for the bad things people do, that you don’t _make_ anyone do anything!”

“Well, yes, that’s true, but when Daniel—”

“NO.” She cuts him off yet again. “Whatever daddy did, it was _his_ choice, and if it was bad then it’s _his fault_ and _not yours_.” She crosses the room and grabs his unresisting hand, dragging him over to the couch and pushing him down on the couch next to her mother, before crawling up and tucking herself into his lap. He looks from the child to the mother, utterly flummoxed at how to respond. “Now. What happened.”

“He was going to try to shoot Lucifer, Trix,” Chloe says gently, and Lucifer feels the child’s hands tighten in his shirt. “But a lot of things happened at once, and he lost control of the gun, and accidentally shot me instead.”

“Daddy _shot_ you?” her voice is small and timid, and her eyes rake over her mother again, as if to reassure herself that she’s there. “Where?”

Chloe places a hand over her scar. “But I’m nearly completely better now, baby.” She stage whispers, “Wanna see my scar?”

Trixie nods, and Chloe lifts her shirt, showing the perfectly round circle of granulated skin. Trixie’s finger reaches out to trace it, and Chloe giggles a little at the tickle from the light touch.

“If it’s only been a couple days… how come it looks so old?”

“Well… that part’s kind of a secret, so you can’t tell anybody else about it okay? Nobody but Miss Ella, Dr. Linda, or Amenadiel?” Trixie’s eyes light a little at the thought of being a secret-keeper, and she nods. “Lucifer loaned me some of his angel mojo, and now I can heal really fast like he does.”

“Woooooow, really?” Her eyes widen in awe as Lucifer glances at Chloe and mouths ‘Angel mojo??’ Chloe shrugs, and he doesn’t argue. It’s not really a lie, and it’s as good an explanation as any for the child to understand.

“Yep,” Chloe says cheerfully. “Even the scar will be gone soon. In fact, all my scars are gone now.”

“Even the one on your butt? From the Kracken?!”

 _“Especially_ that one.” And now Trixie does giggle a little. Her eyes grow sad again, and she toys with the fabric of Lucifer’s shirt.

“What’s going to happen to dad?”

“We don’t know yet, Monkey,” Chloe rests a soothing hand on Trixie’s hair, and leans into Lucifer’s warm side for support. “He’s not in a good place, but he did get arrested after the shooting. He’s probably going to spend some time in jail, or maybe in a hospital to help him straighten out his thoughts.”

“Do I have to go see him there?” Lucifer can feel a silent sob hitch in her chest, and he feels a cold answering weight settle in his own.

“I’ll have to check on the regulations sweetie, I’m sure we can—”

“I don’t want to!” she bursts out, before the tears start to fall again. She buries her face in Lucifer’s chest and wails, as she had when her mother had confessed her own betrayal. He rubs her back soothingly, as he had then, but says nothing. “He tried to hurt Lucifer _again_ after he promised he would talk to someone and get help! And he hurt _you!_ I don’t want to go see him!”

“Beatrice,” Lucifer ventures hesitantly, unsure if the child is going to shout him down again. “Perhaps if I try to explain something about what your father experienced before this most recent, er… fiasco?” Her face is still buried in his chest, and he barely notices the wet spot spreading across his skin from her deluge of tears. “Your father had been shown rather a lot of manipulated evidence to make me look, well, _evil_. Then he saw my true face when I didn't realize he was watching. It's a terrifying thing, Urchin, I only use it for those who truly deserve the worst of punishments. He was utterly convinced, as… others… have been, that forcing me back to Hell would be best to keep everyone on Earth safer. He was truly trying to do what was best for you, and your mother… he just had bad information.”

The child lifts her gaze to his, and the grief her eyes makes them appear nearly as old as his own. “My dad is a _detective_ , Lucifer. He’s supposed to find the _truth_ , not just believe the first story that comes along. That’s his _job_. He didn’t bother to try to find the truth, he just wanted to _hurt you_. That’s not okay.”

“You’re right, Monkey,” Chloe agrees quietly. The guilt in her own heart lies heavily as Lucifer makes every careful effort not to allude to her own lapse in judgement. “It’s not okay, and I wish he would have talked to someone… just like _I_ wish that I would have talked to someone, when I was making my mistakes.”

“But _you_ didn’t hurt anybody, Mommy, you tried to _stop_ that priest from hurting Lucifer.”

“I _almost_ did hurt him, Trix. I almost—” her voice chokes, and Lucifer frees an arm to wrap around her shoulders.

“Maze says ‘Almost only counts with hand grenades,’” the child quotes with a sniff, and Lucifer stifles a chuckle. “You didn’t poison him, the priest did. But daddy _did_ shoot you.”

“He really didn’t mean to shoot your mother, Urchin,” Lucifer reassures her. “I spread my wings to protect Miss Lopez, who was behind me at the time, and your father fell backward, and—”

“Miss Ella almost got hurt, too?” Trixie’s horrified voice rings out, and Lucifer winces at the slip.

“Miss Lopez was completely unharmed! I was merely afraid that if Daniel did indeed shoot that she might be hit.”

“So you saved my mom _and_ Miss Ella,” Trixie snuggles back into his chest as he looks helplessly at Chloe, who is smiling softly at the pair of them.

“Yeah Trix, he did.” Her eyes glint like sunlight on water as they meet his. A small smile forms on his lips, and she continues, “He saved us.”

*******************

The day passes in uneventful placidity after the tumultuous morning. Chloe and Trixie spend most of it cuddled on the couch watching TV, and since neither of them will allow Lucifer to move, he does as well. Chloe notices with an inward smile that he doesn’t protest, even when she notices him eyeing the wrinkles in his suit from Trixie’s presence on his lap.

Occasionally Trixie asks a question, either about her mother’s injury, or Dan, and a small discussion ensues before they lapse back into comfortable silence. Finally, she glances up at Lucifer, eyes wide.

“Can _I_ see your face?”

“Absolutely not!” The denial falls from his lips in an appalled hiss. “Child, that face nearly drove both your parents mad, it’s only meant for _punishment_. You certainly could never deserve it… nor did they.”

“Oh,” her voice is disappointed, and she shrugs. She wriggles in his lap, trying to squirm closer. “Maze’s face is pretty cool, I just thought yours might be, too.”

He looks down at the child in dismay. “You’ve seen Mazikeen’s face?”

Chloe pipes up at the same time, “Maze has another face, too?”

“Yeah, it’s _so_ cool, Mommy, she wore it on Halloween when she took me trick-or-treating—we got _so much candy_ …”

“Detective, I know I’ve said it before, but… your offspring is truly remarkable.”

“If I can’t see your face…” she grins up at him hopefully, “can I see your _wings?_ I barely got a chance last time, and they were so _pretty._ ”

“All right, I take back the remarkable comment,” he retorts wryly. “Child, they are corporeal divinity, not merely a... _pretty_ accessory. Truly, is that the _best_ descriptive term you can come up with? What _do_ they teach you in that institution?" His face wrinkles in distaste, and she giggles. Besides that, while they're not as terrifying as my face, extended exposure can still result in frying human brains, and your mother would hardly approve of that."

“But has Mom seen them?”

“Yes, well, your mother sort of has her own set now, so… oh, bollocks.” Trixie’s eyes widen in delight as she gazes at her mother. Lucifer shoots her an apologetic look, but she only chuckles quietly.

 _“You_ have wings now, Mommy??” Trixie bounces excitedly toward her mother, which causes Lucifer to take the opportunity to remove himself from under her.

“Not like Lucifer’s—”

 _“No one_ has wings like mine, Detective,” he interjects, and she laughs again.

“Mine are kind of… invisible. I can sort of see them like a… rainbow ripple in the air behind me.”

Trixie squints behind her mother’s shoulders, tilting her head this way and that like an owl. “Are they there now?”

“No baby, they’re folded away. I don’t really use them.”

“Can you _fly?_ ”

“I definitely can _not_ fly.” Trixie’s shoulders droop in disappointment at the admission. “But Lucifer can!”

He shoots her a betrayed look, and she considers him paid back for spilling the beans about her spectral wings. Chloe smirks at him as her daughter’s dark, hopeful eyes flicker back to Lucifer at the reminder of that incredibly fast flight with her friend. It had been over so quickly and then the doctors, and her parents, Trixie can hardly believe she'd nearly forgotten.

“Bloody Hell,” he murmurs to himself. “All right offspring, here’s the deal. I can’t unfurl here, there’s not enough space. Next time I’m somewhere I _can_ , I’ll pluck a feather and bring it to you. _If_ you can handle the feather for awhile without your human mind melting, we’ll let your mother decide if she thinks you can handle seeing the wings for longer than a distracted glimpse. But no _petting_ , I'm not a bloody bird.”

“Deal!!” Trixie chirps happily.

They break for dinner after that little revelation, and Chloe insists on cooking. Lucifer hovers, making distressed noises as she moves carefully around the kitchen to gather the ingredients for her favorite Hawai’ian bread sandwiches.

Lucifer washes dishes after the food is inhaled, and Chloe loses her battle with consciousness on the couch. Trixie meanders into the kitchen to help dry and put away. They work together companionably for a time before Trixie asks him a question that's been burning in her mind for weeks.

“Are you and Mommy going to get married now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we're nearly done here, my friends-- one, MAYBE two more chapters at most.  
> No more stories have come to nest in my brain, so here's hoping this might actually be it for me! As always, I appreciate your precious time spent reading, and your comments are amazing.


	41. Singularly Domestically Minded

He nearly drops the plate he’s washing, and only manages to catch it after bouncing it from hand to hand for a moment and splashing himself with soapy water.

“Spawn, what on Earth would give you that _terrible_ idea?” He splutters, “And I assure you, it _is_ a terrible idea.”

“Why is it?” The child looks up at him with confused curiosity. “You love her.”

“I do, Beatrice,” he admits softly, “more than I can ever say. And, per our deal, I have told her so.”

“Okay. She loves _you._ ”

“She says that she does, yes.”

“She _does_.” She grins up at him, sure in her assessment. “So why is it a bad idea?”

“So many reasons, child.” He swallows, then continues. “First of all, the way you humans view marriage today, it’s largely a religious affair, taking place in a church, inviting Father in to oversee the entire process and bless the union. Frankly, I’d much rather keep Dad as far from my personal life as possible.”

Trixie considers this, then nods slowly. “That makes sense. He _has_ been really mean to you. But my friend Amanda’s mom got married on the beach. Her mom’s best friend even did the ‘you can kiss now’ part, so they didn’t even have a priest!”

“Yes, there are ways around organized religion, which is a lovely point for the diversity in humanity’s viewpoints.” They finish the dishes, and Lucifer sits at the bar, inviting Trixie to join him so they don’t disturb the sleeping Detective in the next room. “You must understand, Urchin, that my objections are specific _to me_. They have nothing to do with my feelings for your mother. I will gladly, _joyfully_ spend the rest of her life devoting my every spare thought to her and I will love her for the rest of my eternal life. You know how important choice, and vows are to me, yes?”

Trixie nods solemnly, eyes never leaving his face as he considers his next words carefully. “Celestials don’t change much, as a rule. I think it’s safe to say that I’ve done more changing in my time, than all the rest of my siblings combined. So it’s quite easy for me to know that my love for your mother is eternal. Even before I had a _name_ for what I felt for her, that feeling was constant. If anything, it’s only deepened since I’ve grown to know her better. But humans… Urchin, you humans change so much, and so frequently that sometimes it leaves me reeling. You fascinate me, but your sheer capacity for change is… it’s terrifying for something like me to contemplate. Marriage vows are very specific with the whole ‘til death do you part’ thing… and while death isn’t a deal-breaker for me, I wouldn’t want your mother to be held to me by a vow, should her feelings change in a week, a month, or a decade. I _want_ us to be together more than anything I can imagine, Beatrice, but… I don’t want her choice to be with me—to _stay_ with me—to be the result of a silly piece of paper and a few words spoken as part of a token ceremony. I… I feel that she should be free to walk away if that’s what she needs, without having to worry about being permanently entrapped.”

This is part of why Trixie loves Lucifer, why she considers him one of her _best_ friends, despite being an adult. He never discounts her questions, never shoves them aside as unimportant but gives them his full consideration and doesn’t dumb down his responses because she’s a kid.

“So… you’d rather have her choose to be with you, choose to love you every day. Instead of her _promising_ to love you forever, and maybe having to break that promise if something changes?” Trixie clarifies. Her eyes widen in realization. “Like what happened with Mommy and Daddy. They loved each other one way, and now they love each other a different way and can’t live together anymore.”

“Yes!” He exclaims quietly, relieved at her understanding. “Much like that. I would not wish to be the cause of a broken vow. I’m still the Devil, Spawn, and I come with a lot of baggage that your mother may not wish to be saddled with for the rest of her mortal life. Do you see now, why?”

“Yeah, a little,” she admits, smiling up at him with her melted chocolate eyes. “I think you’re silly to think she’s going to stop loving you, but the thing about choosing each other all the time… that sounds really romantic.”

He clears his throat and looks away, trying to convince himself that he’s _not_ embarrassed at her observation. “How is your leg, child? I did notice that you’re not limping anymore.”

“It itches,” she confides. “The stitches are supposed to come out next week, but Dr. Linda said it looks like it’s healing really good. Even though she’s—”

“—not that kind of Doctor,” he finishes with her, chuckling. “Yes, I know, she’s always very clear on that point. Well, Urchin, as your mother needs her rest, what do you propose we do with our evening? As long as it doesn’t involve glitter, I’m willing.”

On the couch, Chloe grins at Trixie’s answering giggle, then drops back into a light doze as she considers the conversation she just overheard.

************************

Lucifer and Trixie spend a quiet Saturday evening playing another game of Phase 10, and this time Trixie does _not_ let him win. She giggles at his petulant whining when she leaves him floundering in the seventh phase as she triumphantly slams down her winning hand.

“Oh, very well. I believe it’s probably past your bedtime as it is, child.” Now it’s Lucifer’s turn to grin at Trixie’s disappointed groan.

“He’s right, Monkey, it’s definitely bedtime,” Chloe’s voice appears behind him, and he rolls over to greet her, propping himself up on his elbows.

“Detective! Feeling rested? You slept through your pain medication dose—” He scrambles to his feet to go find the pill vial.

“I’m fine, Lucifer, I don’t need it.” She stops him with a gentle hand on his elbow and kiss to his cheek, making Trixie giggle again. “C’mon Trixella, get ready for bed. We’ve got some catching up to do with your storytime.”

“I’ll give you some time with your offspring, Detective,” he murmurs, “Would you prefer I go—?”

“Please, stay?” His expression softens as her eyes bore into his and he nods, again almost an approximation of a bow.

“As you desire, darling. I’ll just be out on the patio.” His eyes flicker in the direction of splashing water where Trixie is preparing for bed. “Take all the time you need, she’s not doing as well as she wants us to think she is.”

Chloe nods thoughtfully. She’d gotten that feeling as well from the interactions she’d caught between the two as she drifted in and out throughout the evening. Lucifer draws her close, his lips brushing softly against her temple. Trixie traipses down the stairs as Lucifer turns to go.

“Where are you going?” she calls plaintively after him.

“I’m just giving you some time with your mum, Urchin. I’m going to stargaze a bit.” She crosses the room and wraps her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. “Sleep well, child.”

“Thanks for taking care of my mom,” she whispers into his shirt.

“I assure you, it is my pleasure, Spawn. And for you as well. Good night, now.” He pats her shoulders and disentangles himself, fleeing gracefully out the sliding glass door to the patio.

Chloe and Trixie settle onto her bed with her mountain of pillows and various stuffed creatures, and Trixie fills her in on her time with Linda and Amenadiel. Linda had baked brownies with her and taken her out to choose accessories for the baby’s nursery, and Trixie had been excited to be allowed to help.

“Do you think you and Lucifer will have any kids, so I can be a big sister?” Trixie asks hopefully.

“Um,” Chloe’s eyes flicker to the door, certain that Lucifer is probably having a panic attack on her patio at the very mention of having children. “Even if we wanted to, I don’t even think that’s possible, baby—we are technically different species.”

“But Amenadiel and Dr. Linda are having one!”

“Yes, but their situation is different from Lucifer and me. I’m not sure how, but I’m sure since Lucifer’s family is involved, it’s complicated.” She ruffles her daughters hair as she pouts. “I’m pretty sure you’re about the only offspring Lucifer is equipped to handle for right now anyway.”

“He would be a good daddy,” Trixie yawns, and Chloe stifles a giggle at imagining Lucifer’s reaction to that statement. “Mom?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Do you think Daddy is sorry for what happened?” her voice is small again, as though she’s afraid of the answer. “Not just that you got hurt, but… for what he tried to do to Lucifer?”

“I… I don’t know, Trixie.” Chloe replies honestly. “I know he loves you very much, and I’m sure that he’s sorry that I got hurt. I hope that he gets the help he needs, and I hope that once he has that help, he realizes what he did was wrong.”

“I’m so mad at him,” the girl confesses, and her voice is thick with tears. “I still love him, but I’m _so_ mad at him!”

“That’s okay Monkey,” Chloe pulls her into a hug. “It’s okay to be mad, and I’m glad you love him. He’s going to need all the support he can get once he comes through this. We can talk about this as much as you need to.”

“I’m tired. Can we just read my story, now?” The girl melts into her mother’s embrace before settling under her covers. Chloe pulls out her book and starts to read where they had left off last week. Four chapters later she finally falls asleep. Chloe sits on the edge of the bed listening to her soft snores, stroking her hair for a while before she finally peels herself away.

The glass door hisses in its track as she steps out onto the patio and locates the Devil by the glowing end of his cigarette. She sits on the wicker loveseat close beside him and leans into his chest, his left arm automatically wrapping over her shoulders.

“How much of that did you hear?”

“Oh, all of it. That story is absolute drivel—”

“I didn’t mean the story and you know it,” she elbows him gently in the stomach and he chuckles.

“Yes, well. I still heard all of it, and I’m glad she can talk to you about how she’s really feeling. Linda tells me that’s very important.” He pulls in a slow, deep breath and releases it through his nose. “How much of _our_ discussion from earlier did you hear?”

Chloe is silent for a moment before answering. “What gave me away?”

“You stopped snoring.” She can hear the smirk in his voice, and she nudges him with her shoulder, resting her head against his chest.

“It means a lot to Trixie that you take her questions so seriously, you know.”

“How else would I take them? The child has a vested interest in your happiness, and deserves due consideration.” She smiles at the befuddlement in his tone.

“Most humans tend to discount kids’ opinions, or talk down to them. Even in the beginning, when you didn’t really understand her and tried to play with her like she was a dog, you still treated her like a _person_.”

“Most humans have a terrifyingly narrow viewpoint, Detective.” He scoffs. “I’ve learned a lot from your little urchin, and the foremost thing is to _never_ underestimate her, at my own peril.” He pauses for a moment before hesitantly continuing, “Your daughter seems singularly domestically-minded.”

“She knows I love you, and she loves you. We like it when you’re with us.”

“Detective.”

“Hey,” she interrupts, as she feels him tensing under her. “I thought you explained your reasons to her really well, and it seems like she understands. You don’t have to worry about _us,_ Lucifer. I’m yours, for as long as you’ll have me. I’ll choose you every day… every minute of every day if that’s what it takes to keep you in my life. Even when we’re driving each other absolutely crazy.”

“I _do_ love you.” He murmurs, and his eyes glint in the darkness as his gaze lingers on her moonlit face.

“That’s good to know,” she whispers back, “Because you might be stuck with me for much, _much_ longer than you think.”

“Oh?” He shifts to be able to see her face better.

“With this actualization thing… I might actually be immortal now.” She smiles shyly up at him.

“Well now,” he purrs, and the glint of the moonlight on his spreading grin brings to mind a glimpse of the stars for the first time after an eternity underground. “If that's so... I think that’s something I could certainly get used to.”

She leans in to kiss him and he meets her halfway; a soft, feather-like brush that quickly gains in intensity until he scoops her up and carries her upstairs, embarking on their next steps into their eternity... however long it may last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "We mounted up, he first and I the second,  
> Till I beheld through a round aperture  
> Some of the beauteous things that Heaven doth bear;  
> Thence we came forth to rebehold the stars."  
> -Dante Alighieri, Inferno, Canto XXXIV
> 
> I chose the title for this story from the closing line of Dante's Inferno, after he's emerged from Hell and finally glimpses the sky again. I thought it was fitting for Lucifer and Chloe's journey through their own depths of despair and finally coming together and learning to trust and love one another again. I think this story is done with me now. I truly appreciate all of you sticking with it, I certainly didn't anticipate it being this long! I've currently got no more ideas taking residence, so I'm truly hoping that the writing bug is done with me for good now-- I don't know how you writers do it, and you have my utmost respect.  
> Every single comment makes me smile, so whether you drop in on this story in 10 days, 10 months, or 10 years, I hope you'll let me know if you enjoyed it. (Or even if you didn't, I suppose.) If you stop in for a re-read, I'd love to know that, too. (I revisit my own reading history often, and the authors of those seem to appreciate hearing that I enjoyed their story enough to come back for a second helping.)


	42. The Straight Way Was Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm new to this. The story came back with more, and as usual- I have NO idea where it's going to take me. I've nearly finished the first chapter, but I wasn't sure if subscribers of this story would be notified when I add the new story, even though it'll be linked to this one as a series. So... Here's a little teaser, and the Chapter 1 of The Straight Way Was Lost should be up later this evening. Hope this isn't too confusing a way to do this... if you subcribed to this story and got a notification that the other story was added to the series, could you please let me know for next time? I couldn't find it in the Ao3 FAQs!

Trixie approaches the heavy door, glancing anxiously back over her shoulder at her mother, who gives her an encouraging smile. The guard at the door gives her a bored look and opens it, ushering her inside where her dad is waiting, with another guard stationed in the corner of the room. She looks around the empty room, taking in the heavy vinyl couch, the rounded plastic chairs around the card table, the small shelf with the worn boxes of board games haphazardly stacked on it.

Dan stops pacing when his daughter enters the room, and they gaze at each other in awkward silence. He’s been in this psychiatric hospital for three weeks, with no visitors but his lawyer and the doctors. And the guards, of course, always the guards. He’s even been kept away from the other patients.

“Hey, Monkey,” he greets her tentatively. “It is _so good_ to see you! How have you been?”

“Hi, Dad,” her voice is small, reticent. Her mother’s advice rings through her head. _Try not to mention my injury or recovery. Try not to mention Lucifer. It’s okay to be scared, or mad, or sad. It’s okay to let him know you still love him._ “I missed you, too.”


End file.
